• 
• 


. 


mm. 


STATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL 


33p  BJUfrcU  (T.  (Srcnfcll 


TALES  OF  THE  LABRADOR.  With  Frontispiece. 

THE  ADVENTURE  OF   LIFE. 

ADRIFT  ON  AN   ICE-PAN.     Illustrated. 

HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 
Boston  and  New  York 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 


v 


+- 


HE  s<><>\   RECOVERED  HIMSELF  AND  STOOD  UPON  HIS  HIM)  LEGS 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 


By 
Wilfred  Thornason  Grenfell 

M.D.  (OXON.),  C.M.G. 


Boston  and  New  York 

Houghton  Mifflin  Company 

(Cbe  Ritcr^iDc  prcg^  Cambri&ge 
1916 

294 


COPYRIGHT,    1916,    BY  WILFRED   THOMASON    GRENFELL 
ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 

♦ 

Published  November  iqib 


U) 


Contents 

That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 1 

Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre 33 

The  Christmas  Voyage  of  the  Handy  Lass      .      .    54 

The  Gifts  of  Poverty 73 

Paingo,  the  Lonely  One 90 

The  Northern  Chief 109 

Uncle  'Lige's  Story 129 

White  Fox 145 

Three  Eyes 103 

The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 174 

kommak  the  innuk 194 


*V^0- 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 


THAT  CHRISTMAS  IN  PEACE  HAVEN 

Our  country  has  long  been  called  the  land  of 
cods,  fogs,  and  dogs.  We  are  glad  of  the  first, 
we  are  sorry  about  the  second,  and  we  are 
divided  about  the  third.  The  first  give  us  our 
food  and  clothing;  the  second  much  of  our  re- 
sourcefulness and  nerve;  the  third  our  winter 
fun  and  firewood,  but  also,  alas,  a  great  amount 
of  trouble.  They  kill  any  domestic  animals  we 
may  try  to  keep ;  they  destroy  any  gardens  we 
laboriously  tend  —  if  once  they  succeed  in  get- 
ting in  over  the  palisades:  thus  they  are  a 
real  source  of  menace  to  our  needed  vegetable- 
supply;  and  they  disturb  our  sleep  and  the 
peace  of  mind  that  plays  so  much  larger  a  part 
in  human  life  than  most  of  us  recognize.  But 
Providence,  which  always  gives  compensation 
for  loss,  has  blessed  us  with  the  most  peaceful 
country  in  the  world.  There  are  no  crowded 
cities;  no  smoky,  bustling  factories;  no  noisy, 

1 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

screaming  railways;  no  dusty  roads  and  dashing 
traffic;  no  daily  mail;  no  imperious  telephones 
We  have  no  drink  traffic.  There  is  no  excessive 
heat  in  summer,  and  the  country  provides  us 
with  the  skins  for  such  clothing  as  enables  us  to 
take  full  advantage  of  the  bracing  winter  cold. 
Here  the  snow  is  always  white.  The  hillsides 
provide  us  with  a  firing  which  leaves  no  grime 
behind  it.  The  very  ashes  from  our  spruce  logs, 
boiled  with  the  fat  of  the  seals  which  are  so 
plentiful  in  the  North  Atlantic,  afford  the  soap- 
supply  of  most  families.  The  blaze  of  our  log 
fires,  contrasting  with  the  crisp  cold  outside, 
would  make  a  miser  generous.  The  sunshine, 
reflected  from  the  snow  in  winter  and  from 
the  sea1  in  summer,  is  our  most  efficient  medi- 
cal officer,  and  gives  our  faces  a  color  that 
suggests  perennial  youth. 

The  most  restful  time  of  all  is  naturally  the 
winter.  Then  we  are  shut  off  from  the  anxieties 
of  disturbing  tidings  which  often  have  righted 
themselves  before  we  hear  of  them  at  all.  As 
shops  are  inaccessible,  we  are  relieved  of  the 
constant  suggestion  that  we  need  something, 
and  we  escape  much  of  the  tyranny  of  things. 
Nor  are  we  tempted  to  keep  late  hours  in 

2 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

crowded  auditoriums,  and  so  sap  our  vitality 
by  chronic  asphyxiation.  Our  food  is  plain, 
but  when  well  cooked  is  amply  sufficient  to 
maintain  the  highest  bodily  efficiency,  while 
there  is  no  temptation  to  surfeit  one's  system 
with  semi-poisonous  food-products  which  we 
have  learned  to  crave. 

The  chief  menace  to  our  cerebral  equilibrium 
arises  from  mechanical  and  physical  causes, 
and  not  from  imaginary  mental  worries  that 
induce  the  popular  malady  of  ''nervous  pros- 
perity." We  err  rather  on  the  side  of  being  too 
well  satisfied  with  what  we  have  than  on  that 
of  being  overanxious  about  to-morrow. 

If  a  peaceful  mind  is  the  asset  in  life  I  take 
it  to  be,  then  we  can  also  be  thankful  that  we 
are  still  so  far  behind  the  times  that  we  have 
not  yet  embarked  on  the  controversy  between 
religion  and  science,  or  begun  to  dabble  in 
cheap  metaphysics  and  shallow  "higher  criti- 
cism." We  are  not  entirely  unanimous  as  to 
which  method  of  approaching  the  Almighty  is 
infallible  for  all  the  world,  but  we  are  pretty 
well  decided  on  the  one  which  helps  our  own 
life  most.  The  sermons  in  seas  and  ice-floes,  in 
storms  and  stones,  conduce  to  as  restful  a  con- 

3 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

dition  of  soul  as  do  the  edicts  of  ecumenical 
councils.  Our  simple  explanation  of  the  phe- 
nomena of  nature  gives  us  a  peace  which,  so 
far  as  I  can  learn,  is  still  past  understanding 
in  the  academies  of  learning.  I  wish  the  wor- 
shiper of  the  No  God  the  very  best  he  can  get 
out  of  his  "inexorable  laws,"  but  we  folk  in  the 
Arctic  value  our  faith  in  a  reasonable  universe, 
and  a  God  who  cares  for  us,  quite  as  much  as 
we  do  Santa  Claus  and  his  good  cheer. 

As  we  venture  off  on  running  ice-floes  in 
pursuit  of  seals,  as  we  fare  far  from  the  home 
port  in  small  boats,  wresting  our  livelihood 
from  a  reluctant  environment,  we  recognize  that 
it  is  only  in  absolute  faith  we  go  forth  each  time. 
How  many  a  gallant  lad  has  departed  on  just 
the  same  quest  and  never  returned  at  all ! 

At  this  very  moment  my  eyes  rest  on  my 
trusty  snowshoes  hanging  from  a  stag's  horns 
by  the  fireside,  and  visions  of  the  rest-giving 
miles  —  I  say  it  advisedly  —  of  tramping  over 
winter  snows  rise  before  me,  and  they  suggest 
such  a  contrast  to  my  present  prosaic  occupa- 
tion that  I  just  have  to  get  up  and  walk  round 
the  table. 

The  generous  and  oft-expressed  sympathy 

4 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

of  many  friends  that  I,  a  physician  from  the 
outside  world,  should  "sacrifice  life"  so  far 
from  all  that  is  desirable,  has  always  been  evi- 
dence to  me  of  the  fallibility  of  pure  reason.  It 
by  no  means  follows  that  what  I  like  best  is 
best,  or  that  that  from  which  I  shrink  at  first  is 
not  really  most  desirable.  But  such  mundane 
things  as  whiskey,  a  fine  cigar,  a  plum  pudding, 
afford  potent  pleas  for  the  justice  of  this  really 
common-sense  judgment  on  my  part.  A  twinge 
of  conscience  always  pricks  me  for  fear  I 
have  unconsciously  misled  these  well-meaning, 
kindly  folk.  In  these  days  of  universal  kodaks 
the  only  safe  path,  anyhow,  is  to  go  about 
witli  the  perpetual  smile  that  won't  come  off. 
But  I  must  admit  also  that  with  the  prick 
comes  some  little  regret  that  more  of  our 
friends  do  not  take  a  term  in  this  subarctic 
university.  Yes,  indeed,  there  are  things  to 
learn  here.  For  though  its  secrets  are  some- 
times hidden  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  we 
have  graduated  some  even  from  that  class  — 
and  our  only  failures  have  been  the  overwise 
freshmen. 

Once  you  will  admit  to  me  that  the  prizes 
of  Christmas  may  be  other  than  the  dollar  or 

5 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

the  toys  we  give,  or  the  proportion  of  currants 
in  the  pudding  we  eat,  why,  then,  I'll  venture 
to  spin  you  a  yarn  of  a  Christmas  "down 
North."  It  may  be  worth  the  telling,  because 
it  may  tempt  some  of  you  good  folk  to  come 
and  share  our  supposititious  misery. 

The  trouble  with  this  particular  Christinas 
was  that  it  came  after  such  a  "total  blank"  in 
our  fisheries  that,  far  from  expecting  Santa 
Claus,  it  was  absolutely  certain  that  some 
of  our  folk  would  be  looking  for  "a  bit  o' 
loaf." 

The  salmon-fishermen  in  the  bay  had  not 
more  than  a  hundred  tierce  between  them,  and 
British  Columbian  salmon  had  cut  the  price  as 
well.  Our  beautiful  trout  was  temporarily  a 
drug  in  the  market,  and  had  hardly  paid  the 
cost  of  salt  and  cooperage.  Not  a  deer  had 
come  to  the  landwash  to  help  out  the  larder, 
and,  owing  to  the  necessity  of  devoting  every 
moment  to  the  fishery,  the  usual  time  for  an 
early  fall  hunt  had  been  allowed  to  slip  by. 
The  only  plentiful  creatures  in  the  country 
seemed  to  be  the  mice  and  the  lemmings.  But 
that  fact  augured  ill  for  our  last  resource, 
the  fur-trapping,  for  foxes  won't  come   out 

6 


'  That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

to  the  landwash  if  they  can  get  food  in  the 
country,  and  marten  and  mink  won't  take 
bait  when  there  is  no  need  for  them  to  run 
risks. 

Yet  when  I  ran  into  Peace  Haven  in  the  late 
fall  to  leave  a  box  of  supplies  for  the  doctor 
on  his  winter  journeys,  you  would  never  have 
thought  there  was  anything  hut  the  jolliest  of 
Christmases  ahead  for  the  good  people  round 
tlit-  little  harbor. 

The  patriarch  of  the  place,  Uncle  Joe,  ex- 
pressed the  general  good  sense  by  saying, 
"Well,  youse  see,  Doctor,  troubles  hurts  just 
that  much  less  if  you  don't  go  to  meet  them 
till  thev  comes  after  voii." 

It  so  happened  that  Jake  Kclsom's  little  boy 
was  sick  and  that  had  stirred  Jake's  mind, 
because  it  was  acutely  visible.  He  had  come 
some  two  miles  across  the  hills  from  a  neigh- 
boring harbor  for  help.  'I  see'd  t'  smoke, 
Doctor,  as  you  rounded  Fishing  Point  Head," 
he  said,  "and  t'  ole  missis  thought  maybe 
you'd  come  over  and  see  our  Jakie." 

It  was  late  before  we  reached  his  house,  and 
only  just  not  too  late  for  Jakie. 

"It  will  mean  staying  here  for  the  night,  and 

7 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

perhaps  taking  Jakie  away  with  us  to-morrow," 
I  said  to  the  anxious  man.  "  Can  you  give  me  a 
shake-down  for  the  night?" 

'Deed  us  can,  Doctor.   T'  ole  missis  '11  fix 
up  t'  room  for  you." 

There  was  only  dry  bread  for  supper,  and  tea 
with  a  drop  of  molasses,  and  I  had  omitted  to 
put  anything  hut  medical  supplies  into  my 
"nonny  bag." 

'It's  only  poor  fare  us  can  offer  you,"  Jake 
apologized.    "But  it's  hard  times  t'  year." 

"As  Long  as  you  have  enough  flour  not  to 
starve,  ami  can  gel  some  fat,  you'll  he  all  right, 
Jake,  till  the  ducks  come  south.  Perhaps  you 
can  kill  a  deer,  too." 

"That's  just  the  trouble,"  replied  my  host. 
"We're  on  our  last  barrel  now,  and  God  knows 
where  the  next  is  to  come  from.  Mr.  Roper 
have  shut  up  t'  store  at  Brandy  Harbor  for  t' 
winter.  lie  says  he  can't  afford  to  give  credit, 
and  he  'lows  us  won't  be  getting  anything  to 
buy  un  with." 

Noticing  just  then  that  his  mouthpiece  was 
an  empty  pipe,  I  handed  him  my  tobacco- 
pouch.  The  smile  which  spread  over  his  face 
repaid  me  for  the  fill,  and  for  the  half-pound 

8 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

more  which  I  later  sent  over  from  the  ship's 
stock.  A  couple  of  curly-headed  youngsters  of 
four  and  five  were  on  the  floor  playing  with 
two  old  cotton  spools  in  absolute  contentment. 
The  shortage  of  soap  even  had  not  in  the  least 
atlected  their  equanimity,  much  less  the  eccen- 
tricity  of  their  garments. 

As  we  sat  in  silence,  puffing  at  our  pipes,  my 
thoughts  went  awing,  and  from  the  heights  I 
seemed  to  get  a  view  of  all  men  as  children, 
forgetting  the  higher  joys  of  manhood  in  play- 
ing with  toys,  and  it  made  me  want  to  help  my 
follow  in  distress. 

I  was  suddenly  brought  hack  from  the  clouds 
by  a  knock  at  the  door.  On  opening  it,  there 
stood  a  man  with  a  large  tin  baking-pan  in  his 
hand.  He  seemed  somewhat  confused  at  see- 
ing a  stranger  in  the  house,  and  after  toying 
with  the  pan  for  a  minute  was  evidently  about 
to  beat  a  retreat. 

"Coine  in,  Tom,"  sang  out  my  host.  "'T  is 
only  t'  doctor.   Come  right  in." 

Tom  closed  the  door  and  came  forward 
somewhat  sheepishly  to  shake  hands.  Mean- 
while, without  a  word's  having  passed  between 
them,  Jake  rose  and,  seizing  the  baking-pan, 

9 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

removed  it  to  the  proximity  of  his  last  barrel  of 
flour,  from  which  he  promptly  proceeded  to  fill 
it  "chockablock."  As  he  returned  and  gave  it 
to  its  owner,  I  noticed  the  same  kind  of  look 
light  up  Tom's  face  as  I  had  previously  seen  on 
my  host's. 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone,  Jake  tried  to  excuse 
his  sof t-heartedness  by  saying  first  that  it  was 
only  a  loan.  But  he  spoiled  that  statement  by 
adding,  "One  baking  more  or  less  won't  make 
much  difference,  will  it?" 

"Perhaps  it  will  make  more  than  you  think," 
I  replied;  "'there  is  that  which  withholdeth 
and  yet  maketh  poor.'" 

We  turned  in  soon  after,  and  I  found  no 
difficulty  in  diagnosing  that  my  needy  friend 
slept  far  more  soundly  than  I. 

A  heavy  nor'easter  with  fog  outside  kept  us 
in  Peace  Haven  another  day.  I  was  soon  satis- 
fied that,  however  good  my  intention,  it  was  far 
beyond  my  capacity  adequately  to  relieve  the 
situation.  What  we  could  do  was  cheerfully 
done,  but  when  we  came  to  get  up  our  anchor 
for  sailing,  I  felt  badly  over  even  the  few  guns 
the  good-hearted  folk  fired  to  give  us  a  "send- 
off,"  for  I  knew  how  scarce  a  load  of  powder 

10 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

was,  and  that  each  discharge  might  mean  a 
duck  less  for  the  cooking-pot. 

There  have  been  similar  cases  in  my  experi- 
ence when  somehow  the  windows  of  heaven 
seemed  to  open  to  supply  the  people's  needs. 
But  this  was  not  one  of  those  occasions.  On  the 
contrary,  all  the  friends  alike,  including  even 
Uncle  Joe,  only  just  "scrabbled  along."  By 
the  first  of  December,  the  little  community 
was  almost  at  its  wit's  end  to  know  what  to  do 
for  food.  They  had  all  moved  up  the  bay  now 
to  their  winter  cottages  to  get  the  protection  of 
the  trees  from  the  winds  which  make  life  on 
the  islands  and  even  on  the  outer  land  almost 
unbearable.  Some  of  the  families  had  been 
lucky  enough  to  strike  a  head  of  caribou  and 
had  secured  a  supply  of  venison.  But  among 
these  fortunate  ones  were  neither  of  my 
straitened  friends.  These  two  men  were  furring 
together  —  that  is,  they  shared  the  same  fur 
path  and  halved  all  they  caught,  an  arrange- 
ment due  to  the  small  number  of  traps  either 
of  them  could  afford  to  purchase. 

It  had  come  Tom  Marvin's  turn  to  visit  the 
"path."  The  snow  was  now  lying  deep  on  the 
ground,  and  the  nose  and  ears  of  even  a  well- 

11 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

fed  man  needed  careful  tending  in  that  atmos- 
phere. Tom  was  on  half  rations,  and  "dry 
flour  ain't  much  to  start  a  day's  work  on." 
But,  clad  in  the  best  he  could  find  to  keep  out 
the  weather,  he  started  on  his  long  tramp. 
Mile  after  mile  went  by;  trap  after  trap  was 
examined.  But  always  the  same  tale  repeated 
itself.  The  trap  was  frozen  over,  or  drifted 
over,  but  never  a  sign  of  a  living  animal  nigh 
any  of  them.  On  and  on  he  plodded  till  he  had 
reached  the  very  farthest  trap  tailed.  Lo  and 
behold,  it  was  gone,  and  not  a  sign  to  be  seen  of 
it.  There  was  a  layer  of  young  snow  on  the 
ground  hiding  even  the  most  recent  tracks,  and 
the  light  wind  that  was  blowing  had  drifted 
them  all  over.  Poor  Tom  was  weak  from  want 
of  good  food  and  worn  out  from  the  journey  as 
well.  This  last  disappointment  seemed  to  take 
the  last  bit  of  grit  out  of  him.  This  particular 
trap  had  been  tailed,  as  he  knew,  on  the  top  of 
an  old  stump  which  they  had  fixed  in  a  very 
narrow  part  of  the  pathway.  The  stump  had 
been  selected  to  prevent  the  trap  from  being 
snowed  deep  under.  If  only  he  could  find  that 
stump,  he  might  be  able  to  get  some  clue  as 
to  the  whereabouts  of  his  trap.  Pulling  himself 

12 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

together,  he  staggered  on  in  search  of  it.  "You 
see,  Doctor,"  he  said  afterwards,  "I  wa'n't 
quite  myself,  perhaps,  just  then,  or  I  would  n't 
have  missed  the  spot." 

As  it  was,  he  came  back  twice  on  his  tracks 
before,  just  under  the  surface  of  the  snow,  his 
foot  struck  the  stump.  Lying  down  and  blow- 
ing away  the  dry,  powdery  snow,  he  was  able 
to  make  out  three  things:  first,  the  trap  had 
gone,  chain  and  all,  the  staple  having  been 
drawn  out  of  the  old  stump;  secondly,  it  was 
a  fox  that  had  taken  it  away;  and  thirdly,  it 
had  gone  within  the  last  twenty-four  hours. 
But  where  had  it  gone,  and  could  he  find  it?  On 
every  side  could  be  seen  snow,  snow,  nothing 
but  snow,  —  except  that  here  and  there  a  few 
green  tops  of  some  scant  spruce  trees  which  we 
call  "tuckamore"  peeped  out.  The  excitement 
of  the  hope  bred  of  the  knowledge  of  his  find 
had  almost  made  a  new  man  of  him.  He  tried 
every  art  he  knew  to  guide  him  as  to  the  way 
to  go.  But  after  starting  in  all  four  directions 
and  circling  round  and  round  with  the  post  as 
a  center,  weary  and  disheartened,  he  felt  he 
must  give  it  up. 

Already  night  was  coming  on.   What  would 

13 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

be  the  use  of  even  a  silver  to  him  if  he  perished 
in  getting  it.  He  was  cold  and  he  was  hungry. 
He  had  already  drawn  heavily  on  his  reserve 
of  strength. 

Yes,  he  would  give  it  up.  Just  as  well  to  die 
one  way  as  another.  "What  was  the  use  of 
struggling  against  such  odds  any  longer?  He 
had  almost  turned  to  strike  out  for  home,  when 
the  vision  of  his  two  curly-headed  lads  crying 
with  hunger  that  he  was  powerless  to  appease, 
and  the  sad  face  of  his  young  wife  rose  so 
vividly  before  him  that  he  turned  once  again, 
"(lod  help  me!  it's  better  to  perish  alone  than 
to  see  'em  suffer."  And  once  again  he  set  out 
blindly  on  the  quest. 

Heading  for  the  nearest  clumps  of  tucka- 
more,  he  carefully  examined  the  ground  all 
about,  but  found  no  signs.  He  set  off  once  more, 
closely  scrutinizing  drogue  after  drogue,  as  we 
c  all  these  small  clumps  of  trees.  On  and  on  he 
wandered  till  suddenly  a  white  mark  like  a 
fresh  trail-blaze,  low  down  on  a  young  fir, 
caught  his  watchful  eye.  A  closer  examination 
showed  that  the  bark  had  been  notched  by 
some  sharp  instrument  —  and  in  a  moment 
more  he  was  certain  that  some  animal  carrying 

14 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

a  trap  had  been  seeking  shelter  in  the  thicket. 
But  there  was  none  there  now,  and  which  way- 
was  he  to  go?  What  was  he  to  do  next?  The 
land  to  the  north  of  him  was  steep,  rising 
eventually  at  the  top  to  a  jagged  wilderness  of 
high  pinnacled  rocks.  To  the  southward  it  fell 
away  in  a  long  even  slope  to  a  large  lake.  The 
chances  were  all  in  favor  of  the  fox  having 
sought  the  shelter  of  the  rocks.  But  there  was 
no  visible  track.  It  might  be  exactly  the  wrong 
direction.  The  torturing  dilemma  nearly  drove 
him  crazy.  Would  n't  it  be  as  well  to  take 
the  easier  path?  But  he  decided  to  play  the 
game  to  the  finish.  Without  exactly  knowing 
why,  or  even  how  he  got  along,  he  began  to 
climb  the  shoulder  of  the  hill.  lie  had  not  gone 
more  than  half  a  mile,  when,  as  he  topped  the 
level  of  a  low  ridge,  he  thought  he  saw,  away 
above  him  on  the  snow,  a  tiny  black  speck 
moving.  A  second  more  and  he  was  sure  of  it. 
Now  began  a  race  for  life.  His  will  was  work- 
ing at  its  best.  He  was  really  crazy  now,  but 
it  was  with  tumultuous  hope  and  maddening 
excitement.  The  memory  of  fatigue,  the  fear 
of  perishing  alone,  everything  in  heaven  and 
earth  had  vanished  from  his  consciousness. 

15 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

There  on  the  hill  above  him  and  almost  within 
his  very  grasp  was  the  price  of  food  for  his 
loved  ones.  But  with  every  second  the  gap 
was  widening.  Once  the  fox  should  gain  the 
craggy  summit  there  would  be  no  hope  of 
getting  him.  Tom  was  a  great  runner,  and  at 
any  other  time  the  issue  would  not  have  been 
in  doubt  for  five  minutes.  But  his  will  had 
flogged  the  willing  muscles  into  action  to  the 
very  limit  of  their  power;  their  reserve  was 
exhausted.  Even  as  he  started  on  the  chase, 
his  snowshoe  caught  in  an  unnoticed  snag  and 
he  stumbled  and  fell.  When  he  rose  there  was 
a  dizziness  in  his  head  which  prevented  his  see- 
ing the  speck.  However,  an  agony  of  fear  like  the 
prick  of  a  big  spur  sent  him  stumbling  along 
again.  Another  minute,  and  he  sighted  the  speck 
moving  away  far  above  him  on  the  hillside. 

Fortunately  for  Tom,  it  was  a  handicap 
race  all  round.  The  wretched  fox,  flying  for  his 
life,  had  to  drag  the  heavy  trap  on  his  leg.  He 
was  stumbling  and  falling  scarcely  less  fre- 
quently than  his  competitor  in  the  race.  Al- 
ready the  goal  was  in  view  and  it  seemed  as 
though  the  fox,  as  well  as  the  man,  recognized 
the  winning-post,  and  each  was  straining  every 

16 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

nerve  to  get  an  advantage.  Now  the  man  would 
gain,  till  a  slip  of  his  snowshoe  in  the  rapidly  in- 
creasing incline,  or  a  further  stumble  from  care- 
lessness and  exhaustion,  again  made  him  lose 
ground.  Now  the  trailing  trap,  catching  in  a 
snag,  would  trip  up  the  fox  for  a  second  with 
a  round  turn,  and  he  would  lose  time  snarling 
and  biting  at  it.  A  couple  of  hundred  yards 
ahead  loomed  the  tangled  labyrinth  of  huge 
rocks,  torn  by  the  iron  foot  of  our  winters  from 
the  massive  peak  that  formed  the  summit  of 
the  hill  above,  —  a  huge  moraine  with  endless 
rocky  fortresses,  a  very  plethora  of  cities  of 
refuge,  from  any  one  of  which  the  fugitive  was 
well  aware  he  could  bark  defiance  at  his  enemy. 
On  the  whole,  the  man  was  gaining,  but  not  fast 
enough  to  give  him  the  victory,  and  without 
his  realizing  it,  the  fact  was  telling  against  him. 
At  this  moment  a  new  element  entered  the 
arena.  A  sudden  clear  glimpse  of  the  fox  be- 
trayed the  dark,  glossy  coat  of  that  doyen  of 
our  northern  furs,  a  black  silver.  This  is  the 
prize  of  the  North.  With  its  capture  the  trap- 
per not  only  wins  his  knightly  spurs,  but  also 
money  enough  to  keep  him  without  fear  of 
want  for  many  a  day  to  come. 

17 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

Here  was  a  man,  himself  half-fed  and  half- 
clad,  his  loved  ones  perishing  by  inches  for  the 
want  of  mere  necessities  at  home,  his  future  so 
black  that  he  greatly  preferred  death  to  facing 
it,  and  here,  almost  in  his  hands,  but  yet  slip- 
ping from  his  grasp,  was  food,  clothing,  rest 
from  anxiety,  and  all  he  needed  to  make  life 
contented. 

A  madman  is  said  to  be  capable  of  sudden 
superhuman  feats  of  strength,  the  ill  Control  of 
his  nerve  impulses  making  it  possible  for  him  to 
let  every  reserve  go  at  the  same  moment.  As 
Tom  told  me  the  story  afterward,  there  was 
only  one  explanation  of  what  happened.  He 
must  have  gone  stark  mad.  All  he  remembers 
was  that  something,  he  does  n't  know  what, 
shot  him  forward  up  that  last  incline  like  an 
arrow  from  a  bow.  He  recalls  that  somehow 
his  snowshoes  did  not  hold  as  the  angle  of  the 
hill  became  too  steep.  But  in  spite  of  that  on 
and  on  he  went.  He  remembers  the  fox  as  it 
got  into  the  mouth  of  a  great  cleft,  turning  and 
yelping  at  him,  and  that  with  one  big  jump  he 
flung  himself  bodily  upon  it.  And  then  oblivion. 

When  he  came  to  himself  it  was  dark.  At 
first  he  forgot  where  he  was.  He  was  miserably 

18 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

cold,  his  head  was  dizzy  and  aching,  he  was  in 
the  open,  lying  on  the  snow.  Surely  he  had 
gone  to  sleep  by  mistake.  There  was  some- 
thing wet  on  his  head.  He  put  his  hand  to  it, 
and  examined  it  by  the  reflection  of  the  moon- 
light —  blood.  Something  must  have  hit  him. 
Probably  a  rock  had  rolled  down  on  him. 
Then  suddenly  his  hand  touched  something 
cold  which  stuck  fast  to  his  wet  finger,  burning 
it  like  a  red-hot  iron.  He  tore  it  off  and  with  it 
a  piece  of  skin  from  his  hand.  But  he  felt  no 
pain.  A  chain!  What  could  a  chain  be  doing 
there?  A  chain!  Then  suddenly  it  all  flashed 
back  into  his  mind:  the  misery  at  home,  the 
tramp,  the  lost  trap,  the  struggle.  But  the  fox 
—  where  was  the  fox?  He  tried  to  rise,  but  could 
not.  So  he  crawled  up  on  to  his  feet  against  the 
face  of  the  big  rock,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
swaying  in  the  moonlight.  Then,  dropping  on 
his  knees  in  the  snow,  in  an  agony  of  unspoken 
supplication,  he  groped  in  under  the  rock  to 
find  if  possibly  the  fox  might  still  be  there. 
Nothing  but  snow  and  rock  met  his  touch. 
He  listened,  but  no  sound  could  be  heard. 
It  must  have  slipped  the  trap  while  he  was 
unconscious,   or   perhaps  gnawed  itself  free. 

19 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

Dizziness  was  overcoming  Tom,  and  the  night 
was  getting  darker. 

He  was  too  weak  to  hope  to  get  home,  and 
the  savage  comfort  came  to  his  mind,  "Well, 
it  won't  make  any  difference  to  me  that  I  lost 
him";  and  once  more  he  sank  down  into  his 
old  place  on  the  snow.  Ugh!  What  was  that? 
The  chain  again.  lie  tore  at  it  in  mad  anger 
to  try  and  hurl  it  from  him.  But  no,  it  would 
not  move.  He  grabbed  it  in  both  hands  and  in 
senseless  rage  flung  his  weight  into  the  strain. 
It  gave  slowly.  It  was  fast  to  something:  the 
trap,  of  course.  Why  had  n't  he  thought  of 
that?  At  least,  it  should  deceive  no  one  else. 
He  would  hurl  it  into  this  rocky  fastness  where 
no  one  could  ever  find  it  —  to  lure  another  man 
to  his  undoing.  But  even  as  it  came,  a  great 
heap  of  snow  came  with  it,  and,  flinging  his 
arms  around  it,  Tom  once  more  rose  from  his 
knees  as  he  prepared  to  hurl  it  from  him.  But 
what  was  that?  Surely  God  Almighty  would- 
n't mock  him  now.  The  snow  was  soft  in  his 
arms,  yet  it  certainly  was  hard  in  lumps. 
Something  was  projecting:  a  frozen  stick.  No, 
it  was  n't  that;  it  was  hairy.  Once  more  he 
reeled  and  fell  on  the  snow,  as  he  realized 

20 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

that  he  held  in  his  arms  the  dead  body  of  the 
black  fox. 

Exactly  what  followed  is  very  hazy  in  his 
memory.  Something  had  made  him  stronger. 
He  supposes  it  was  the  unconquerable  determi- 
nation to  tell  the  good  news.  At  first  he  pic- 
tured himself  going  straight  home,  and  open- 
ing the  door,  with  the  fox  in  his  arms.  His 
strength  seemed  like  that  of  ten  as  he  thought 
of  the  look  on  his  wife's  face,  and  of  the 
children  when  they  found  what  it  meant  to 
them.  No  more  hunger,  no  more  of  the  awful 
anxiety  which  was  worse  than  hunger.  He 
thought  of  Jake's  joy  and  what  he  would  say 
first.  It  was  Jake  who  had  fed  him  when  he 
was  hungry.  He  loved  Jake  with  a  man's 
whole  love.  Oh!  he  could  get  back  all  right. 
He  must  get  back  if  he  fell  dead  at  his  own 
door. 

Cuddling  the  fox  like  a  baby,  he  was  able  to 
get  on  his  feet  and  start  down  the  hill.  The 
next  thing  he  remembers  was  picking  himself 
up  out  of  some  tuckamores  into  which  he  had 
wandered.  That  reminded  him.  The  tilt,  the 
mailman's  tilt  in  the  green  rudge  could  be  only 
a  short  distance  away.   Of  course  he  could  n't 

21 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

get  back  as  he  was.  He  must  get  shelter  till 
morning.  It  was  trees  he  needed;  trees  to 
shelter  him.  The  tilt!  Why  hadn't  he 
thought  of  it!  And,  once  more  climbing  to  his 
feet,  he  stumbled  on  into  the  night,  clinging  to 
his  precious  burden  like  a  drowning  man. 

Elsie,  his  wife,  had  been  anxious  when  he  set 
out.  She  knew  he  was  n't  his  real  self.  Only 
because  it  was  as  bad  to  stay  as  to  go»had  she 
consented.  She  had  persuaded  him  not  to 
carry  his  gun.  It  was  too  heavy  for  him  on 
such  a  long  round.  She  needed  it  to  fire  for 
him  if  he  was  late.  Thev  all  said  there  was  no 
use  in  it,  as  there  was  n't  a  rabbit  around,  and 
besides  it  might  frighten  away  foxes  from  the 
path.  All  the  coast  knew  that  Mark  Gulliver 
had  shot  himself  a  year  or  two  before,  when 
his  family  were  starving.  Now  she  was  glad 
she  had  kept- it.  She'd  go  over  and  see  Jake. 
Jake  would  certainly  know  where  to  look  for 
him  even  if  night  had  overtaken  him.  And 
Jake  —  why,  he  'd  go  anywhere  at  any  time 
for  anybody,  much  more  for  Tom. 

Bertie  and  Johnnie  were  given  a  rather 
larger  piece  of  bread  —  the  merest  smear  of 

22 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

molasses  disguised  it.  There  had  been  no 
kerosene  for  a  light  for  weeks,  and  sleep  kept 
them  from  thinking  of  hunger.  Only  half- 
satisfied,  the  children  had  cried  themselves  to 
sleep  in  their  deep  wooden  bunks,  before  she 
locked  their  door  and  slipped  over  to  Jake's 
house. 

"Said  he'd  be  back  early,  did  he?"  said 
Jake  in  his  kindly  way  as  poor  Elsie  explained 
her  fears  to  him.  "Well,  sure  it's  early  yet 
if  it  is  a  bit  dark.  But  I  'lows  he 's  changed  his 
mind  and  is  going  to  sleep  in  a  tilt  to-night." 

"But  he  promised  he  would  n't,"  urged  the 
woman.  "He  promised,  hit  or  miss,  he 
would  n't  leave  me  alone  to-night.  I  can't 
bear  it,  Jake.  I  tell  you  I  can't  bear  it.  If  he 
does  n't  get  back  by  ten  o'clock,  I  'm  going  to 
ask  Jessie  to  let  me  bring  the  boys  over.  I 
must  go  after  him.  I  can't  stay  here,  and  he 
perishing." 

"He  won't  perish,  lass,"  Jake  answered; 
"there's  a  thousand  things  as  'ud  make  him 
stay  on  the  path." 

"I  tell  you,  Jake,  he's  in  trouble.  I  know  it 
as  sure  as  I  'm  standing  here.  If  he  is  n't  back 
by  ten,  may  I  bring  Bertie  and  Johnnie  over?" 

23 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

"Yes,  and  welcome,"  he  answered.  "But  if 
it  comes  to  going,  why,  you  'd  better  let  me 

go." 

"No,  no,"  she  replied.  "I  know  the  way 
the  path  runs,  and  if  any  one  can  find  him, 
why,  I  can,  if  so  be  he  's  lost." 

The  cheap  wooden  clock  still  pointed  far 
from  ten  when  once  more  Elsie  trudged  over 
to  Jake's  with  her  bundle,  one  lad  trotting 
beside  her.  Though  Jake  was  himself  all  ready, 
there  was  no  dissuading  Elsie  from  going  also. 

"Jake,"  she  said,  "since  I  left  you,  I'm 
sure  something's  wrong  with  Tom.  I  didn't 
see  him,  but  I  heard  him.  lie's  out  on  the 
snow,  and  he  wants  me.  I  've  got  some  bread 
here  and  a  little  bit  of  raw  tea.  There's  noth- 
ing else  in  the  house  now."  And  unbidden 
tears  welled  in  her  eyes  as  she  thought  of  the 
little  she  could  give  the  husband  of  her  love  if 
she  did  find  him. 

"Don't  fret,  lass,"  said  Jake.  "I've  put  in 
a  small  bottle  of  molasses.  'T  is  a  pity  there 
be  no  fat.  But  it 's  no  good  crying  over  it." 
And,  seeing  she  was  determined  to  go,  he  said 
no  more,  but  started  out  with  her. 

It  was  getting  light  before  they  had  visited 

24 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

their  own  ten-mile  tilt,  only  to  find  it  empty. 
Fortunately  there  was  no  wind,  so  that  when 
this  strange  couple  reached  the  spot  where 
the  last  trap  had  been  tailed,  they  had  a  com- 
plete riddle  written  in  the  snow  to  solve. 

Jake's  keen  wits,  however,  soon  read  it 
rightly. 

"V  trap's  got  lost,"  he  said,  "and  Tom's 
bin  a  long  time  lookin'  for  un.  Come  on.  We'll 
soon  find  him." 

Another  mile  following  his  tracks  and  they 
found  another  and  fresher  trail  crossing  it. 

"It's  all  right,  Elsie,  lass.  That's  Tom 
coming  back  again.  Us  need  n't  follow 
round.  Us '11  follow  the  new  track." 
/  The  new  trail  was  far  from  being  straight, 
and  at  the  end  of  almost  half  a  mile  showed 
evidence  of  a  struggle  and  a  fall. 

"Just  tripped  on  his  shoes,"  said  Jake;  and 
passed  on  without  stopping. 

"Why  did  he  wander  about  so?':  asked 
Elsie  after  another  period  of  silence.  "Why, 
he  walked  right  into  the  tuckamore  here!" 

"Oh!  It  was  dark,  I  'low,"  answered  Jake 
cheerily.  "It's  terrible  hard  to  go  straight  in 
the  dark.    You  just  shut  your  eyes  and  try. 

25 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

The  only  trouble  is,  I  can't  quite  make  out 
what's  he  aiming  for.  Reckon  I'll  climb  t' 
knoll  while  you  rests  yourself  a  bit."  And 
without  more  ado,  he  started  off  up  the  rocky 
piece  of  hill.  On  returning,  he  said  briefly, 
"T'  general  line  is  towards  t'  green  rudge.  I 
thought  maybe  he'd  gone  for  the  tilt  there. 
And  anyhow, it's  time  us  cooked  a  kettle  if  us 
wants  to  keep  going." 

Though  hunger  and  weariness  and  self  were 
far  enough  from  Elsie's  mind,  Jake  gave  her  no 
time  to  discuss  the  proposition,  and,  having 
carefully  marked  where  he  could,  if  necessary, 
strike  Tom's  trail  again,  he  branched  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  tilt.  Elsie  followed  for  all  the 
world  like  a  child. 

Another  half-hour  passed  in  silence,  and 
then  suddenly  Jake,  who  was  ahead,  gave  a 
joyous  shout. 

"Come  along,  lass,"  he  said.  "I  thought  as 
much.  Here's  his  trail,  and  he's  surely  mak- 
ing for  the  tilt."  "We  might  have  saved  the 
night's  wandering,"  he  thought,  but  was  too 
generous  to  say  so,  and  merely  added,  "Tom  '11 
be  main  surprised  to  get  visitors  out  here,  if  so 
be  as  he  has  n't  left  again." 

26 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

Time  took  wings  to  itself  now,  and  it  only 
seemed  a  few  moments  before  the  poles  mark- 
ing the  track  to  the  tilt,  which  was  hidden  in 
the  dense  spruces,  came  into  view.  Jake,  still 
ahead,  went  in  without  waiting,  for  the  marks 
of  the  trail  had  revealed  to  him  a  far  more 
anxious  tale  than  he  had  shown. 

Tom  was  lying  face  down,  stretched  out  on 
the  big  bed  of  spruce-tips  —  his  arm  still 
round  the  body  of  the  beautiful  silver  fox. 

A  good  blazing  fire,  some  hot  tea,  and  even 
dry  loaf  to  eat  soon  made  a  difference  —  and 
chafing  his  extremities  soon  brought  back  ani- 
mation to  them.  He  had  not  been  wet  and  the 
depth  of  the  soft  spruce  bed  had  fortunately 
afforded  him  some  little  heat.  Before  night 
the  whole  three  were  safely  home,  and  all  the 
village  knew  that  Tom  Marvin  had  caught 
a  silver. 

Alas,  you  can't  keep  a  family  on  fox-meat, 
and  even  now  that  they  had  good  value  to  ex- 
change for  food,  it  was  a  serious  task  to  get  it. 
The  nearest  station  was  a  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany's post,  nearly  a  hundred  miles  away. 
Almost  all  the  dogs  in  the  village  had  either 

27 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

died  or  been  shot,  as  no  one  had  any  food  with 
which  to  supply  them.  But  all  hands  were  in- 
terested, and  enough  half-fed  animals  were 
collected  to  enable  Jake  and  Tom  to  set  out 
for  the  Company's  post. 

It  was  two  days'  journey  as  a  rule  with  an 
empty  sledge,  but  it  would  surely  take  four 
days,  coming  back  loaded, with  the  team  avail- 
able and  the  chances  of  bad  weather.  They 
hoped  to  drag  back  at  least  three  barrels  of 
flour,  with  fats  and  other  supplies  as  well,  so 
they  were  counting  on  a  thousand  pounds  at 
the  lowest  reckoning.  That  meant  the  men 
would  have  to  walk  every  step  of  the  way 
back. 

As  soon  as  the  skin  was  dried,  it  was  care- 
fully packed,  and  the  two  men  set  out  on  their 
iournev  over  mountain  vallevs  and  arms  of  the 
sea,  as  light-hearted  and  confident  as  school- 
bovs.  Thev  should  be  back  at  least  a  full 
week  before  Christmas. 

But  the  appointed  time  came  and  went,  and 
still  there  was  no  news  of  the  sledge.  It  was 
only  four  days  to  Christmas  when  Uncle  Joe 
sent  out  a  relief  party  on  foot,  as  there  were 
no  more  dogs  left  in  the  settlement. 

28 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

The  children,  who  had  been  expecting  great 
things  ever  since  the  fox  was  caught,  had  been 
buoyed  up  on  the  tiptoe  of  expectancy  with 
tales  of  the  "wunnerful"  Christmas  they  were 
going  to  have. 

"No,  no;  Christmas  is  Christmas,"  said 
Uncle  Joe.  "I  says  it  do  matter.  Why,  if  Santa 
Claus  is  to  get  to  Noo  Yawk  on  time,  he  'in 
obliged  to  pass  here  early.  And  if  that  there 
Jake  don't  bring  un  along,  I'll  'low  he'll  never 
find  this  here  cove  t'  year." 

The  growing  anxiety  of  the  village  was  not 
diminished  by  the  symptoms  of  still  unsatis- 
fied vital  organs  in  the  younger  members  of 
more  than  one  family.  The  hope  of  a  happy 
Christmas  for  the  children  had  almost  been 
abandoned,  when  on  the  morning  of  Christ- 
mas Eve  one  of  the  relief  party  dispatched  for 
the  purpose  reported  the  joyful  news  that  the 
loaded  sledge  was  climbing  the  last  range  of 
hills  on  the  home  journey.  The  enfeebled  dogs 
had  been  of  little  or  no  use.  Moreover,  half  of 
them  had  been  sacrificed  to  feed  the  others. 
At  every  uphill  the  sledge  had  to  be  unloaded, 
and  the  barrels  literally  rolled  up  to  the  top. 
Many  a  time  since  I  have  had  to  laugh  as  I 

29 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

thought  of  the  two  men  solemnly  starting  a 
kind  of  egg-and-spoon  race,  as  they  pushed 
their  flour  barrels  up  over  the  long  steep  hill- 
sides. 

But  everything  has  to  come  to  an  end,  and 
before  sundown  the  salvo  of  the  last  charges  of 
powder  in  Peace  Haven  announced  the  safe 
return  of  the  expedition.  No  time  was  lost  in 
packing  and  all  night  was  lost  in  cooking.  But, 
at  any  rate,  Elsie  and  Jessie  and  all  the  other 
good  mothers  had  something  ready  for  the  day 
of  days. 

"It  seldom  rains  but  it  pours,"  they  say  — 
and  it  seemed  so  in  this  case.  Late  in  the  eve- 
ning, while  the  attention  of  the  village  was 
occupied  with  their  sledge  from  the  north,  a 
noise  of  shouting  and  of  bells  announced  the 
arrival  of  another  team,  from  the  south. 
Before  any  one  could  say  a  word  a  great  team 
of  Eskimo  dogs,  with  a  driver  in  Eskimo  dress 
and  a  tall,  bearded  man  in  furs,  had  drawn  up 
at  Uncle  Joe's  door. 

"Come  right  in  quick,  Doctor,"  said  the  old 
man.  "We're  just  looking  for  Santa  Claus, 
and  I  don't  know  but  you  's  him.  Come  right 
in."   And  in  the  doctor  promptly  went,  need- 

30 


That  Christmas  in  Peace  Haven 

ing,  indeed,  no  second  invitation  after  his 
long  journey. 

The  plot  was  soon  hatched,  Uncle  Joe  being 
chief  conspirator.  "T"  box  what  t'  steamer 
left  for  you  in  the  fall,  Doctor,  —  I've  got  it 
right  here.  But,  of  course,  there's  no  knowing 
what's  in  un." 

"Is  it  very  heavy,  Uncle  Joe?" 

"Well,  now,  it  is  and  it  ain't.  I'm  thinkin' 
there's  something  beyand  tinned  meat  in  he." 

The  box  was  soon  brought  in  and  duly 
opened.  Fortunately  I  had  noticed  in  Peace 
Haven,  as  in  many  other  places  on  the  Lab- 
rador, that,  beyond  cotton  reels  and  other 
educational  but  somewhat  unsatisfactory  sub- 
stitutes, toys  were  characterized  almost  en- 
tirely by  their  absence.  Here  and  there  a 
cheap  painted  effigy  could  be  seen  perched 
high  up  on  the  wall,  well  out  of  reach  of  the 
children  —  a  precaution  probably  as  salutary 
for  the  doll  as  for  the  infant.  But  I  had  tried 
to  remember  this  shortage,  and  before  even  a 
tin  of  milk  appeared,  a  large  parcel  of  toys 
containing  many  dolls  was  discovered. 

The  midnight  round  of  Santa  Claus;  the 
excitement  and  shouting  in  the  morning;  the 

31 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

full  meals  at  which  you  might  eat  all  you  liked, 
but  of  course  could  n't;  the  magic  lantern 
slides  shown  by  the  doctor  in  the  school- 
house  in  the  evening  —  are  possibly  just  so 
many  negligible  quantities  in  the  economy  of 
the  universe.  But  they  were  not  in  the  annals 
of  Peace  Haven.  Joy  filled  the  heart  of  Bertie 
as  he  clasped  to  his  breast  his  new  calico  cat  as 
tightly  as  had  poor  Tom  the  silver  fox;  bliss 
reigned  in  the  soul  of  Johnnie  as  he*  strutted 
from  house  to  house  to  show  his  cronies  the 
first  Teddy  bear  that  ever  braved  the  climate 
of  our  Northland;  while  to  the  hearts  of  Jake 
and  his  good  wife,  of  Tom  and  Elsie,  of  Uncle 
Joe  and  all  the  grown-ups  in  the  village,  not 
excluding  the  doctor  and  the  dogs,  to  whom 
had  been  given  an  extra  portion,  came  the 
"Salaam"  of  Him  whose  Birthday  they  were 
keeping,  a  present  which  can  be  given,  but 
never  purchased. 


SAINTE  ANNE  DE  BEAUPRfi 

Probably  the  very  last  troubles  one  would 
expect  to  meet  in  our  country  would  be  those 
arising  from  the  theories  of  ecclesiastics.  Yet 
the  very  bitterest  animosities  of  which  our 
kindly  folk  are  capable  have  almost  always 
been  the  outcome  of  the  conviction  that  they 
knew  all  about  the  road  to  heaven,  a  subject 
on  which  every  one  else  was  hopelessly  —  and 
probably  "damnably"  —  ignorant.  The  fact 
is  that  our  minds  here,  like  our  snow  in  May, 
have  such  deep  rills  cut  into  them  by  the 
warmest  and  kindliest  of  suns  that  no  power 
on  earth  can  ever  level  them  off  again;  and,  once 
sectarian  teaching  and  denominational  school- 
ing have  done  their  deadly  work  on  such  simple 
folk,  the  bias  needs  no  adventitious  aid  from 
the  sinfulness  of  nature  or  the  deceitfulness  of 
the  tongue  to  switch  off  at  times  the  pure  waters 
of  an  innate  kindliness  almost  synonymous 
with  life  under  isolated  and  hard  conditions. 

One  result  of  these  unfortunate  dogmatic 
interpretations  of  our  duty  to  God  is  very 

33 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

obvious  on  this  coast.  Men  of  different  affilia- 
tions do  not  like  —  nay,  hardly  dare  —  to  live 
in  communities  where  their  isolation  is  made 
more  complete  by  it  than  by  any  physical 
conditions.  I  know  many  a  man  who  will  not 
hesitate  to  settle  in  the  wildest  and  loneliest 
localities,  but  whom  no  money  would  drag  to 
live  amidst  those  of  a  different  persuasion. 
There  is  always  one  factor,  however,  which, 
like  the  proverbial  hospitality  shown  to  the 
very  bitterest  foe,  will  surmount  even  this 
terrible  mistranslation  of  religion,  and  that 
is  the  bond  which  unmerited  misfortune  or 
suffering  creates.  That  never  fails  to  release 
the  really  divine  in  the  most  fanatical  among 
us,  and,  like  some  specially  focused  ray  of  our 
exquisite  sunshine,  causes  the  living  water  of 
human  kindness  to  spring  forth  from  the  most 
unexpected  snow-bank. 

It  was  just  such  a  calamity  which  had 
originally  led  the  family  of  the  subject  of  this 
story,  strong  adherents  of  the  Roman  com- 
munion, to  settle  in  the  little  village  of  Peace 
Haven,  where  only  once  a  year  could  they 
expect  the  visit  of  their  tireless  peripatetic 
priest,  and  where,  when  death  came,  there  was 

34 


Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre 

always  a  risk  of  being  deprived  of  those  last 
ministrations  which  they  especially  value  so 
highly. 

Once  the  die  is  cast,  a  house  built,  a  fishing- 
room  established,  a  fur  path  secured,  the  set- 
tler here,  like  the  limpet  on  our  rocks,  finds 
moving  to  a  distance  almost  an  impossibility. 
So  it  happened  that  this  family  of  Irish  extrac- 
tion was  surrounded  by  descendants  of  those 
sturdy  men  of  Devon  and  Dorset  whose  great- 
est pride  it  ever  was  of  yore  to  have  had  some 
hand  in  helping  to  singe  the  King  of  Spain's 
beard. 

Patrick  Bryan,  the  eldest  son  of  this  some- 
what isolated  household,  had  been,  as  was 
only  to  be  expected  from  his  nationality,  well 
to  the  fore  in  every  piece  of  boisterous  fun 
and  harum-scarum  adventure,  in  opportunities 
for  which  the  life  at  Peace  Haven  abounded. 
Why  some  folk  are  not  satisfied  to  get  to  the 
top  of  a  precipice,  without  climbing  its  face,  it 
is  hard  to  say;  and  why  others  are  never  con- 
tent to  hold  the  sheet  in  their  hands  when  the 
lee  rail  of  a  small  boat  is  already  under  water, 
who  can  tell?   Suffice  it  to  say  that  there  are 

35 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

such  folk,  and  among  these  Paddy,  as  they 
called  him,  was  always  a  ringleader.  The 
charm  of  life  seemed  to  him  to  lie  in  taking 
chances,  and  the  loss  of  an  eye  by  a  mis- 
adventure in  one  of  these  wild  escapades 
scarcely  seemed  to  sober  him  up  a  whit. 

Then  like  a  bolt  from  the  blue  came  that 
which  would  be  sufficient  to  drive  courage  and 
hope  from  the  hearts  of  the  best  of  men.  In  a 
trifling  mimic  battle  with  nothing  more  dan- 
gerous than  snowballs,  one  containing  some- 
thing sharp,  possibly  a  bit  of  ice,  caught  him 
full  on  his  sound  eye,  and  in  a  few  seconds  he 
could  see  nothing  at  all.  His  terrified  com- 
panions led  him  instantly  to  his  home,  and  the 
advice  and  skill  of  all  the  elderly  ladies  of 
Peace  Haven  were  sought.  But  after  tansy 
poultices,  electric  oil,  green  worsted  tied  round 
his  wrist,  shark's  oil,  and  all  the  potions  and 
pills  of  the  harbor's  pharmacopoeia  had  been 
tried,  Paddy  had  still  to  grope  his  way  about 
without  a  glimmer  of  light  to  help  him. 
.  It  is  barely  possible  that  had  Pat  at  once 
come  to  the  little  mission  hospital,  just  estab- 
lished on  the  coast,  he  might  still  have  saved 

36 


Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre 

some  useful  quota  of  his  sight,  but,  just  as  previ- 
ously he  had  always  been  foremost  in  every 
adventure  without  a  care  for  consequences,  he 
was  now  absolutely  the  reverse.  Apparently 
nothing  would  induce  him  to  allow  his  friends 
to  carry  him  a  yard  from  his  home.  No  remedy 
was  too  foolish  or  too  painful  for  him  to  try, 
at  the  hands  of  these  perfectly  unskilled  local 
advisers.  Granulated  sugar  and  salt,  pressed 
up  under  the  lid  of  the  eye,  pained  him  like 
a  red-hot  knife,  and  probably  sealed  the  last 
chance  of  saving  any  remnant  of  sight,  but  he 
bore  it  all  like  a  martyr.  He  seemed  perfectly 
terrified  at  the  thought  of  leaving  home,  pre- 
ferring, like  a  frightened  rabbit,  to  stay  in  his 
hole  and  perish. 

It  was  almost  exactly  a  year  later  that  a 
komatik  and  dogs  brought  up  at  our  little 
hospital  door,  and  a  blind  man  was  led  in  by 
two  of  his  friends  to  seek  treatment.  His 
changed  attitude  had  been  induced  by  a  visit 
of  the  hospital  steamer,  during  the  summer 
previous,  to  that  part  of  the  coast  on  which  he 
lived,  when,  hearing  of  his  sad  condition,  we  had 
gone  ashore  to  look  him  up.  An  hour  or  two 
spent  visiting  among  the  sick,  and  we  had  gone 

37 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

off  again,  having  been  able  to  do  practically 
nothing  for  Paddy's  blindness,  which  examina- 
tion made  very  obvious  was  beyond  human 
remedy.  But  it  so  happened  that  the  other  sick 
in  his  harbor  had  received  undoubted  help 
from  the  treatment  given  from  the  steamer,  and 
as  soon  as  winter  came  on,  and  the  "going" 
was  good,  nothing  would  satisfy  poor  Pat  but 
that  he  must  go  to  the  hospital,  and  have  his 
eye  taken  out  and  cleaned.  Accordingly,  just 
before  Christmas,  after  a  long  journey  occupy- 
ing three  days  and  involving  camping  in  the 
small  tilts  here  and  there  provided  for  the  use 
of  passing  travelers,  as  full  of  faith  and  hope  as 
a  child,  I  found  the  poor  fellow  sitting  one 
morning,  waiting  in  the  surgery  for  the  miracle 
which  he  was  certain  we  were  about  to  per- 
form upon  him. 

It  was  easy  to  realize  that  practically  the 
man's  whole  joy  in  life  lay  in  his  inextinguish- 
able optimism,  and  blankly  to  inform  him  that 
there  was  no  hope  whatever  would  very  prob- 
ably cause  a  reaction  similar  to  the  one  which 
had  previously  cost  him  so  much;  and  we 
feared  that  a  second  such  shock  might  have 
permanent  results,  and  the  poor  lad's  mind 

38 


Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre 

made  melancholic  for  life.  So,  after  much 
ritual  expended  on  his  examination,  and  all  our 
ingenuity  devoted  to  delphic  utterances,  we 
advised  him  to  stay  for  a  while  and  see  what 
could  be  done. 

Here,  however,  was  a  dilemma  which  had 
never  occurred  to  us.  Pat  wanted  a  miracle 
performed  upon  him  in  true  Biblical  fashion  — 
a  few  words,  and  possibly  time  for  an  anoint- 
ing would  not  have  been  amiss;  or  some  trifling 
task  like  washing  in  the  Jordan  he  might  have 
been  prepared  for;  but  to  stay  alone  with 
strangers,  with  folk  of  a  different  creed,  while 
his  friends  were  sent  home,  was  a  shock  for 
which  he  had  not  been  prepared.  It  took  all 
the  nurse's  gentle  art  and  possibly  the  assist- 
ance of  the  merry  talk  of  half  a  dozen  conva- 
lescents with  whom  he  had  dinner  to  woo  him 
into  a  state  of  mind  in  which  he  would  listen  to 
advice.  But  at  length  his  fixed  idea  that  the 
performance  of  a  miracle  was  only  a  matter  of 
willingness  on  our  part  prevailed,  and  he  went 
out  and  communicated  to  his  two  friends  his 
conclusion  —  that  he  might  be  able  to  per- 
suade us  to  perform  it  only  if  he  stayed. 
"T'  Doctor  says,  Tim,  as  he  can't  do  me  no 

39 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

good  if  I  goes  back  with  youse.  But  he  'lows 
if  I  stays,  he'll  have  a  chance  anyhow.  'T  is 
best  for  me  to  stay,  I  'lows." 

"I  think  't  is  as  you  says,  Pat;  and  if  you  be 
goin'  to  stay,  us  '11  get  back  as  far  as  Pigeon 
Cove  to-night,  so  as  to  get  t'  daylight  to  cross 
t'  neck." 

Men  of  few  words,  they  were  soon  harnessing 
in  their  dogs,  though  Pat  still  clung  to  them 
like  a  leech.  lie  had  begged  me  to  come  down 
with  him  and  sec  them  off.  You  cannot  get  too 
close  to  a  man  if  you  want  him  to  see  with  your 
eyes,  and  in  a  matter  of  the  heart  like  this,  no 
opportunity  is  too  trifling,  for  the  very  reason 
that  it  is  the  inside  man  who  is  in  evidence. 

With  a  good  hag  of  non-freezable  pork  buns 
from  our  cook,  and  a  large  sack  of  dry  capelin 
for  their  dogs  at  night,  and  a  specially  designed 
hearty  send-off  from  our  boys,  the  friends  not 
only  left  in  high  spirits,  but,  as  Pat  put  it,  "I 
never  seed  the  like  of  it  in  my  life  before, 
Doctor"  —  already  a  confession  of  another 
road  to  the  visual  centers  than  through  the 
optic  nerves. 

Week  follows  week  quickly  when  the  hand 
and  mind  are  busy,  and  from  the  very  first  no 

40 


Sainte  Anne  de  Bcaupre 

effort  was  spared  to  exercise  and  train  the 
available  faculties  of  our  friend.  He  had  al- 
ready learned  to  make  baskets,  and  was  toiling 
like  a  Titan  with  the  intricacies  of  the  Braille 
system,  before  we  thought  wise  to  let  him 
know  that  it  was  probably  only  through  these 
and  other  such  channels  that  he  must  expect 
in  future  to  correspond  with  the  world  outside. 
Already,  however,  a  new  capacity  for  under- 
standing was  developing  in  him,  and  he  was 
able  now  to  realize  that  it  was  well  worth 
while  to  be  "biding  with  us  awhile,"  away 
from  his  home  and  friends,  and  that  he  need 
have  none  of  the  vague  fears,  so  common  to 
many,  of  the  things  of  which  they  know  noth- 
ing. By  open  water  Pat  knew  every  one  in  our 
harbor;  he  was  a  welcome  visitor  in  every 
home,  for  he  possessed  in  unstinted  measure 
that  cheery  optimism  of  the  blind;  and  the 
natural  kindliness  of  our  folk  was  in  any  case 
intensified  by  his  disability.  "He  ruleth  by  the 
right  divine  of  helplessness."  Never  content 
to  be  idle,  he  was  always  about  with  some 
one  mending  nets,  chopping  wood,  or  doing 
some  of  the  odd  work  about  the  little  cot- 
tages.   In  spite  of  their  differing  tenets,  this 

41 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

realization  of  unfeigned  kindliness  was  an  evi- 
dence of  Christianity,  and  yet  another  revela- 
tion to  him. 

Loaded  with  many  small  tokens  of  affection, 
poor  in  value  so  far  as  money  goes,  but  rich  in 
the  truest  sense  to  him,  Pat  left  us  early  in 
May.  Uncle  'Lige  from  the  Bight  took  him 
along  the  first  twenty  miles  of  his  journey  in 
his  large  trap  boat,  a  service  for  which  he 
would  not  even  accept  thanks  —  "he  would 
just  go  for  a  cruise,  anyhow,  he  reckoned." 

With  the  exception  of  a  very'  occasional  note 
or  rumor  passed  along  the  coast,  we  heard 
little  of  Pat  for  the  next  two  years.  The  family 
was  much  reduced  in  circumstances,  for  though 
Pat  fished  all  the  season  with  a  young  brother, 
he  was  seriously  handicapped.  Moreover,  they 
were  lean  years  on  that  section  of  the  coast, 
the  fish  not  striking  home  to  the  shore.  Fur- 
trapping  and  deer-hunting  Pat  was  cut  off 
from,  and  work  about  the  house  brought  him 
no  money. 

Notwithstanding  their  extreme  poverty,  the 
custom  of  the  coast  and  the  long  distances 
between  the  scattered  houses  brought  belated 
travelers  now  and  again  for  a  night's  lodging 

42 


Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre 

to  Pat's  home,  where  they  not  only  received 
free  lodging,  but  also,  with  open  hand,  a  share 
in  such  food  as  the  larder  could  offer.  From 
one  of  these  visitors  one  night  Pat  heard  a 
marvelous  story.  "  'Way  up  on  the  north 
side  of  the  St.  Lawrence,"  said  the  stranger, 
"is  a  won'erful  place,  where  they  does  terrible 
cures.  They  calls  un'Beaupry.'  They  says  St. 
Anne,  the  Mother  of  the  Virgin,  came  there 
once,  so  they  put  up  a  fine  church  for  her. 
Seems  she  come  again,  too,  for  soon  after  that 
those  who  were  sick  what  went  and  prayed  at 
her  altar  got  cured.  When  folks  got  to  hear  of 
this,  they  started  in  coming  from  every  place 
around,  and  now  there  be  hundreds  —  and 
they  says  thousands  —  what  goes  there  all  the 
while  to  get  healed  up." 

As  Paddy  realized  the  utter  impossibility  of 
ever  getting  there  himself,  the  story  made  little 
impression  on  him  at  the  time.  Quebec  was  as 
far  as  Timbuctoo  to  a  man  who  never  left 
Peace  Haven.  Some  months  later  they  were 
pouring  the  tale  into  the  sympathetic  ear  of 
the  priest,  who  was  again  making  his  annual 
round  of  the  coast,  and  asking  him  if  he  had 
ever  heard  it.   Why,  of  course  he  had.  All  the 

43 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

world  knew  of  the  famous  shrine.  Were  not 
pilgrimages  being  made  to  it  all  the  while  from 
every  part  of  the  world?  "Would  'em  fix  me 
up,  Father,  think  you,  if  I  could  get  there?" 
broke  in  poor  Pat.  "Sure  I'd  crawl  there  on 
my  knees  if  I  thought  so." 

"There's  no  knowing,"  answered  the  kindly 
man.  "They  do  say  many  get  their  sight  there. 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Pat.  I'll  see  if  I  can 
get  a  little  money  together  to  start  you  off 
there  after  next  fishing,  and  we'll  all  pray  she 
may  grant  you  what  you  want." 

So  the  shrine,  never  before  thought  of  on 
our  coast,  became  the  talk  of  the  fireside. 
"They  say  blind  Pat  is  going  to  Canady  to  get 
his  sight  cured  t'  fall,"  was  the  word  in  many  a 
cottage,  and  was  uttered  with  faith  enough  to 
make  a  wooden  image  see,  if  mental  attitude 
alone  were  the  gauge  of  potency.  The  poor 
attempts  at  modern  surgery  at  the  mission 
hospital,  or  anywhere  else,  evaporated,  some- 
thing like  Alice  after  swallowing  the  White 
Rabbit's  potion. 

With  Pat  the  months  of  the  fishing-season 
sped  like  a  dream,  though  they  contributed 
little  enough,  over  the  amount  needed  by  the 

44 


Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre 

family,  toward  the  expenses  of  the  coming  pil- 
grimage. To  all  hands  it  was  just  a  venture 
into  the  great  unknown,  and  when  at  length 
the  steamer  lay  at  anchor  in  the  harbor  and 
the  poor  lad  had  to  set  out  friendless,  blind, 
and  alone,  with  passage-money  for  only  half 
the  journey  and  no  provision  beyond,  it  took 
the  best  spirit  of  the  crusader  of  old  to  hold 
him  to  his  resolution. 

Every  one  within  reach  had  chipped  in  with 
his  mite.  The  good  priest  had  not  only  sent  a 
most  helpful  contribution,  but  as  Paddy  passed 
south,  he  boarded  the  steamer  and  commended 
his  case  to  his  fellow  passengers.  Every  one 
became  interested  in  so  cheerful,  so  hopeful, 
and  so  uncomplaining  a  man,  irrespective  of 
theories  as  to  the  outcome  of  the  venture,  and 
a  collection  taken  up  for  him  gave  him  trans- 
portation to  his  destination.  But  even  then  he 
had  to  go  almost  without  food  in  order  to  eke 
out  the  residue  to  last  till  his  journey's  end. 

Here,  however,  his  upbringing  stood  him  in 
good  stead,  as  he  had  tackled  many  a  harder 
job  on  one  meal  a  day  at  home,  and  his  in- 
ward vision  of  what  it  would  all  mean  to  him 
dispelled  any  clouds  of  doubt  with  which  his 

45 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

physical  disabilities  might  have  overwhelmed 
him.  As  with  the  old  Knights  of  the  Holy  Grail 
such  trifles  passed  almost  unnoticed.  Soon  the 
tedious  journey  was  drawing  to  a  close.  From 
the  crowded  train  and  the  conversation  going 
on  around  him  Pat  had  gathered  that  there 
was  a  special  pilgrimage  on  its  way  to  the 
famous  shrine.  Shy  from  the  isolation  of  his 
life,  his  infirmity  made  him  strive  all  the  more 
to  pass  as  much  as  possible  unnoticed.  Soon 
he  would  be  able  to  see,  and  then  lie  would 
hold  up  his  head  with  the  best  of  them.  The 
very  crowd  made  his  isolation  all  the  greater. 
Moreover,  every  one  was  absorbed  with  his 
own  business;  every  one  who  was  not  himself 
ill  had  some  sick'person  belonging  to  him  on 
whom  he  must  attend.  So  when  at  length  the 
train  stopped  at  its  destination,  and  people 
began  to  get  out,  Pat  found  himself  with  noth- 
ing in  his  pocket  and  not  a  friend  in  the  world 
near  enough  to  help  him.  He  had  been  told  by 
the  priest  exactly  what  to  do;  he  was  to  go  to 
the  church,  pray  at  the  shrine  of  the  saint,  and 
wait  for  the  grace  which  was  to  open  his  eyes. 
In  Pat's  mind  there  was  never  a  moment's 
doubt  as  to  what  he  should  do  first.  Of  course 

46 


Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre 

he  must  go  up  and  get  his  sight.  Hunger  and 
sleep  and  such  trifles  were  all  forgotten.  He 
was  as  one  possessed.  Even  as  his  feet  touched 
the  ground  he  felt  like  another  man;  his  shy- 
ness instantly  disappeared,  and  his  tongue 
at  least  was  restored  to  its  natural  function. 
Seizing  the  first  passer-by  on  the  platform,  he 
inquired,  eagerly,  "Where  is  it  to?" 

"Where  is  what 'to'?" 

"Why,  where  un  goes  t'  be  cured." 

"Follow  the  crowd."  And  the  stranger, 
shaking  off  the  detaining  hand,  pushed  hastily 
on,  eager  evidently  on  some  quest  of  his  own. 

It  was  a  rebuff  none  the  less  keen  because 
unmerited.  Several  people  jolted  against  him, 
and  once  or  twice  Pat  was  nearly  knocked  over. 
To  him  it  seemed  as  if  out  of  so  many  people, 
surely  some  one  would  help  him;  till  he  sud- 
denly realized  that  he  was  actually  all  the  more 
alone  because  of  the  crowd.  At  home  every 
one's  business  was  his  neighbor's;  here  no  one 
seemed  to  have  time  enough  even  for  his  own. 
Once  or  twice  he  tried  to  speak  to  people,  but 
they  could  not,  and  he  thought  would  not, 
understand  him.  He  had  never  known  that 
the  world  could  be  so  thoughtless  of  others, 

47 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

though  he  remembered  what  an  enormous  ex- 
pense a  single  meal  seemed  to  him  to  be,  and 
he  thought  perhaps  they  could  n't  afford  to 
add  to  their  burdens  by  giving  meals  to  a 
stranger.  In  that  short  half-hour  at  the  sta- 
tion he  had  learned  many  things,  and  as  the 
crowd  melted  away  and  left  him,  a  great  yearn- 
ing to  be  back  at  Peace  Haven  overwhelmed 
him.  But  he  got  up  and  followed  the  crowd, 
and  shortly  found  they  were  stopping  near  a 
church,  into  which  they  were  slowly  filing. 
Not  knowing  what  to  do,  he  just  stood  still  and 
waited. 

Seeing  him  standing  there  hesitating,  a  child 
asked  him  what  he  was  looking  for. 

"The  altar,"  he  replied,  "the  altar  of  St. 
Anne." 

Instinctively  the  little  fellow  seemed  to  know 
that  Pat  was  blind,  and,  taking  his  hand,  he  led 
him,  not  only  into  the  church,  but  up  to  the 
very  steps  of  the  altar  itself,  where  many 
others  were  already  kneeling,  and  which  most 
assuredly  otherwise  Pat  could  never  have  found. 

Poor  Pat.  It  was  no  fault  of  his  if  he  did  not 
get  his  prayer  answered.  Certainly  his  faith 
had  never  been  excelled.    He  had  the  most 

48 


Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre 

absolute  belief  that  in  an  hour  or  so  at  most  he 
would  be  cured.  At  first  the  hours  seemed  as 
nothing.  He  merely  thought  that  the  petitions 
of  the  many  others  were  occupying  the  saint's 
attention.  Then  at  last  he  became  physically 
weary,  and  the  first  shadow  of  doubt  crossed 
his  mind,  and  the  recollection  of  the  words  he 
had  heard  at  the  hospital  —  that  nothing  could 
restore  his  sight  —  came  back  to  him.  Still, 
there  were  others  coming  and  going,  and  he 
would  hold  on  till  the  last  moment. 

The  church  was  getting  quieter  now;  the 
rush  of  people  had  almost  ceased,  and  silence 
reigned  at  last  so  completely  that  he  could  hear 
his  own  heart  beating,  he  thought.  He  knew  it 
was  dark,  and  that  he  was  nearly  alone,  and 
for  the  first  time  the  lessening  preoccupation 
of  his  mind  left  room  for  the  appreciation  of 
physical  hunger.  What  must  he  do?  He  had 
no  money  for  the  saint.  He  had  offered  her  all 
he  had  to  offer.  His  past  experience  of  almost 
universal  human  sympathy  would  not  let  him 
believe  that  a  saint  could  be  really  obdurate. 
He  had  prayed  with  all  the  words  he  knew  how 
to  use.  What  was  now  left  to  him  to  do? 

Doubt  soon  began  to  be  fear  in  his  mind. 

49 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

Could  it  be  possible  that  she  would  not  help? 
or  that  men  had  deceived  him  on  purpose,  and 
that  she  could  not  help  him  in  his  trouble? 
They  had  given  money;  surely  that  meant 
that  they  too  believed  in  her  power.  He  was 
getting  cold  and  miserable,  and  had  neither 
friends  nor  money  nor  knowledge  of  what  to 
do. 

Time  now  seemed  endless,  and  as  his  fears 
began  to  be  realized,  and  everything  every- 
where grew  darker  to  him,  fear  gave  place  to 
anger.  Kising  from  his  knees  in  a  storm  of 
passion,  he  flung  himself  out  of  the  church. 
Somehow  he  got  outside,  and  even  down  the 
steps  without  accident.  Now  the  cool  evening 
air  sobered  him  up.  He  had  come  back  to  the 
world  of  facts,  and  the  magnitude  of  the  prob- 
lems before  him  overwhelmed  even  his  self- 
possession.  He  could  have  cried  aloud  for 
help,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  he  expected 
no  one  to  pay  any  attention  to  him.  The 
thoughtlessness  and  selfishness  of  the  crowd 
had  given  him  an  altogether  new  view  of 
the  world.  Here  were  supposedly  the  best  of 
men,  Christian  men  full  of  faith,  and  yet  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  ask  help  from  any 

50 


Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre 

of  them,  fearing  to  face  another  rebuff  in  his 
present  state  of  mind.  Oh,  to  be  back  home 
again!  seeing  or  blind,  he  did  not  care.  He 
would  have  given  his  hearing  as  well  if  he  could 
only  have  tasted  again  the  feeling  that  men 
sympathized  with  him  and  loved  him. 

Suddenly  the  unexpected  happened.  A  hand 
was  laid  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  voice  said  to 
him  in  the  most  kindly  tone,  "Well,  Paddy, 
where  are  you  going  for  the  night?"  It  was 
the  voice  of  one  of  his  fellow  passengers  on 
the  train.  The  poor  fellow  was  speechless,  but 
silence  was  golden  this  time.  The  stranger  in 
the  train  had  learned  his  story,  and  then  lost 
sight  of  him  in  the  crowd,  busy  with  his  own 
affairs.  However,  he  was  able  to  read  the 
conflicting  emotions,  culminating  in  despair, 
which  were  so  plainly  written  on  Pat's  fea- 
tures. So  he  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but 
locking  his  arm  in  Paddy's,  he  just  said, 
"Come  along;  I'll  give  you  a  bed  to-night." 

The  reaction  was  marvelous,  and  no  doubt 
was  Pat's  salvation.  It  was  exactly  what  folk 
would  do  at  Peace  Haven.  He  almost  fancied 
that  he  was  at  home  again,  and  when  at  length 
the  supper  was  served,  and  he  was  told  to  "sit 

51 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

right  in,"  —  the  very  words  with  which  he  was 
so  familiar  at  home,  —  the  awful  feeling  of 
loneliness  left  him,  and  he  broke  down  and 
cried  like  a  child. 

The  unknown  friend  proved  to  be  "only  a 
laboring  man,"  a  man  with  a  family  of  his  own; 
but  he  took  interest  enough  in  poor  Paddy  to 
straighten  out  all  his  difficulties,  and  eventu- 
ally to  see  him  off  safely  for  his  long  journey 
back,  and  that  not  without  something  with 
which  to  buy  a  bit  of  food  on  the  way. 

In  due  course  of  time  Pat  reached  home 
again.  His  friends  have  not  yet  agreed  on  any 
interpretation  of  the  strange  events,  except 
that,  having  no  theoretical  faith  in  saints 
anyhow,  unfortunately,  in  their  intellectual 
self-satisfaction,  they  know  that  Paddy  just 
wasted  his  time  and  money. 

A  strange  change  had  come  over  Pat,  how- 
ever, and  no  one  was  more  conscious  of  it  than 
was  he  himself.  With  physical  eyes  he  still 
cannot  see  physical  things,  or  even  the  phys- 
ical faces  of  those  he  loves.  But  for  all  that  his 
eyes  had  been  opened,  yes,  very  widely  opened, 
and  he  saw  life  and  its  true  values  in  alto- 
gether new  lights.   "With  possibly  less  trust  in 

52 


Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre 

saints  in  heaven,  he  had  learned  to  have  more 
use  for  saints  on  earth.  Not  St.  Anne,  but  the 
unknown  laborer  had  been  the  means  of  a 
better  eye-opening  than  he  had  ever  hoped 
to  receive.  "Paddy  is  as  blind  as  a  bat,"  men 
will  tell  you  in  Peace  Haven,  but  his  unselfish 
life,  his  happy  face  and  uncomplaining  nature, 
and  his  humble  services,  gladly  rendered  to  any 
and  every  man,  have  done  more  in  these  past 
few  years  to  sweeten  Peace  Haven  than  Peace 
Haven  knows  —  and  there  are  some  of  us  who 
still  believe  that  Paddy  did  after  all  receive 
his  sight  at  Sainte  Anne  de  Beaupre. 


THE   CHRISTMAS   VOYAGE  OF  THE 
HANDY   LASS 

Tiie  good  schooner  Handy  Lass  had  sailed 
once  more  for  the  Labrador,  taking  with  her 
all  the  hopes,  and  most  of  the  possessions,  of 
Uncle  Solomon  Anstey.  The  bread  and  butter 
for  his  whole  large  family  depended  on  this 
annual  venture.  The  ice  this  spring  had  been 
the  latest  on  record.  The  very  oldest  resident 
"had  never  even  heard  from  his  grandfather  of 
the  Straits  being  blocked  in  August."  There 
had  not  been  twentv-four  hours  clear  of  drift 
ice  since  Skipper  Solomon  left  Icy  Tickle. 

With  him,  for  their  first  long  trip,  were  his 
two  oldest  boys,  'Lige  and  Ben.  Each  was  to 
have  half  a  man's  share  out  of  the  voyage; 
and  big  indeed  they  had  felt,  as  in  their  new 
blue  guernseys  and  sea-boots  they  had  waved 
good-bye  to  the  "children,"  left  with  their 
mother  to  tend  the  garden  and  home. 

^Yeek  after  week  the  ice  held  on.  The  time 
for  the  capelin  school  had  come  and  gone,  and 
when  one  day  we  happened  to  board  the  Handy 
Lass,  we  almost  believed  Uncle  Solomon  was 
discouraged. 

54 


Christmas  Voyage  of  the  Handy  Lass 

"No,  Doctor,  believe  me.  We've  ne'er  a 
fish  under  salt  yet,  and  t'  time  nearly  runned 
up  for  trapping  already.  —  But  the  good  Lord 
knows  best  for  we,"  he  added  guiltily,  and  I 
caught  his  eye  as  he  looked  round  to  see  if  I 
had  noticed  the  nearest  approach  to  quarreling 
with  the  Almighty's  dealings  that  I  had  ever 
seen  him  display. 

"You'll  have  to  go  farther  north  and  stay 
later,  Uncle  Solomon,"  I  replied.  "But  you 
don't  mind  the  ice.  I  've  seen  you  hauling  the 
anchor  chain  without  a  mitt  on,  long  after  the 
harbor  had  been  'caught  over.'" 

'That's  right  enough,  Doctor.  It's  them  at 
home  I'm  thinkin'  on.  There's  five  little  ones 
besides  'Lige  and  Ben,  and  them  do  eat  a 
power  of  vittles." 

Three  months  afterward,  our  own  hospital 
steamer  had  gone  into  winter  quarters.  The 
ice  was  already  making  in  all  the  coves;  and 
the  fleet  had  gone  south.  Late  one  evening  a 
belated  vessel,  flying  no  less  than  three  some- 
what tattered  flags,  anchored  in  the  roadstead. 
She  was  veritably  "bringing  up  the  keel  of  the 
Labrador."  It  did  not  take  us  long,  with  the 
glasses  from  the  balcony  of  our  house,  to  make 

55 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

out  the  lines  and  rigging  of  the  Handy  Lass. 
She  was  log-loaded,  and,  being  driven  in  for 
shelter  on  her  way  south,  had  hoisted  all  her 
bunting  to  emphasize  that  fact  for  our  infor- 
mation. 

"Well,  Uncle  Solomon,"  I  exclaimed,  as  the 
radiant  features  of  my  old  friend  welcomed 
me  over  the  rail.  "So  you've  done  it  after 
all." 

'Yes,  t'ank  God,"  he  answered.  Ask  and 
it  shall  be  given;  seek  and  ye  shall  find';  and 
we  found  'em  north  of  Gulch  Cave,  when  the 
ice  was  already  making  on  the  meshes  at  night. 
But  we'm  in  some  trouble,  Doctor,  and  I'm 
real  glad  it  was  fixed  for  we  to  call  in  and  see 
you.  Ben  here  has  been  ailin'  the  last  month, 
and  us  can  see  nothin'  t'  matter.  I'd  just  like 
to  have  you  look  at  him." 

An  examination  made  even  in  the  deep,  dark 
bunk  of  a  small  schooner  revealed  the  need  for 
immediate  operation. 

"There's  trouble  in  his  appendix.  That's 
his  stomach,  you  know.  You  should  have  him 
taken  right  up  to  the  hospital  for  operation. 
We  can  send  him  home  by  the  last  mail-boat. 
She  runs  from  here  till  January;  and  if  she 

56 


Christmas  Voyage  of  the  Handy  Lass 

does  n't  get  along  that  trip,  we  '11  keep  him  till 
spring." 

"It's  as  you  says,  Doctor." 

So  the  following  morning  the  schooner  sailed 
away,  leaving  the  veritable  Benjamin  of  the 
crew  in  our  hands.  Fortunately,  things  went 
well.  Ben  made  a  good  recovery,  and  it  was 
only  the  early  ice  preventing  the  steamer 
getting  into  our  harbor  that  was  keeping  him 
with  us. 

Day  by  day  slipped  by,  and  no  westerly  gale 
came  to  clear  the  coast  of  the  young  "slob." 
Our  older  patients  took  little  notice  of  the  fact 
that  the  steamer  had  failed  to  "reach  North" 
on  her  second  fortnightly  December  trip. 
The  vagaries  of  our  weather  had  made  them 
stoical.  But  Ben  was  like  the  master  watch 
who  cannot  find  the  seal-patch  in  March. 
Nothing  would  satisfy  him  that  he  could  exist 
away  from  home  for  Christmas,  especially  with 
that  "half -share"  awaiting  him. 

At  last  came  Christmas  Eve,  and  with  it  all 
the  preparations  the  good  nurses  always  make 
for  that  occasion.  Ben  was  mystified  at  the 
"spruce  boughs  being  brought  right  into  the 
house."  The  gay  bunting  in  all  the  wards  was 

57 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

a  new  experience  to  him.  It  fairly  forced  him 
to  be  interested.  "What's  un  for,  Miss?"  he 
asked  the  nurse  many  times,  as  he  gazed  at  the 
various  decorations.  To  his  utilitarian  mind 
money  spent,  except  for  necessities,  was  wasted 
on  "that  which  profiteth  not."  The  feeling  of 
secrecy  that  pervaded  the  whole  atmosphere 
so  fascinated  him  that  he  forgot  his  troubles; 
and  when  Christmas  Day  was  ove^r,  and  all 
its  festivities,  including  the  fun  of  a  real 
Santa  Claus,  who  had  brought  him  a  beautiful 
pocket  knife,  he  caught  the  spirit  of  the  rest, 
and  gave  himself  up  to  a  very  riot  of  enjoy- 
ment. 

At  length,  however,  the  long-expected  west- 
erly gales  came.  All  but  the  standing  ice  was 
scattered  over  the  ocean's  face,  and  the  plucky 
little  mail-boat  once  more  forced  a  passage  to 
our  doors  and  Ben  at  last  betook  himself  to  the 
bosom  of  his  family. 

It  was  not  till  the  following  fall  that  I  again 
met  with  Uncle  Solomon.  The  fleet  is  large, 
the  fishing-grounds  scattered,  and  somehow, 
in  the  journeys  of  the  earlier  summer,  we 
failed  to  run  across  the  Handy  Lass.  So  when 
one  day  we  descried  her  working  north  among 

58 


Christmas  Voyage  of  the  Handy  Lass 

half  a  dozen  other  craft,  we  steamed  up  under 
her  lee,  and  hailed  the  watch. 

Uncle  was  summoned  on  deck,  and  when  he 
saw  us  alongside,  he  at  once  hove  his  vessel 
to  the  wind  and  invited  us  to  drop  a  boat  to 
come  aboard.  We  were  keen  enough  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  our  last  winter's  patient,  but  more 
so  to  hear  what  Uncle  Solomon's  views  were  on 
the  saving  of  his  boy's  life. 

It  was  Ben  himself,  strong  and  hearty,  who 
was  standing  watch,  and  he  literally  fell  all 
over  us,  as  we  climbed  aboard.  It  would  have 
done  any  landsman  good  to  have  felt  the  grip 
which  Uncle  Solomon  always  gives  either 
friend  or  stranger. 

"So  you  got  your  Benjamin  back  safely, 
Skipper?" 

'Why,  yes,  t'ank  God,  Doctor.  He  done  a 
good  winter's  work." 

I  was  wondering  how  a  modern  surgical 
operation  had  impressed  him,  and  so  asked, 
"  Don't  you  find  it  strange  that  we  were  able 
to  cut  him  open  and  put  our  hands  right  into 
him?" 

"Well,  I've  been  splittin'  codfish  these  forty 
years  now,  Doctor,  and  sometimes  I  mostly 

59 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

thinks  I  could  split  a  man.  But  you's  right 
about  the  sewing  up.  Doctor,  there  be  one 
thing  that  Ben  never  stops  talkin'  about,  and 
that  be 's  the  times  they  had  at  Christmas.  An 
old  spruce  all  ablaze,  he  says,  like  t'  burnin' 
bush,  and  presents  on  it  for  every  one.  You 
can't  stop  him,  Doctor,  and  nothin'  will  satisfy 
him  now  but  us  must  have  one  like  it  come 
Christmas."  , 

The  dream  seemed  destined  to  be  realized. 
Once  again  the  old  skipper  "struck  t'  fish." 
"Got  right  in  among  'em,"  as  he  informed  me 
later.  And  so,  reaching  home  with  a  "bumper 
voyage,"  he  reckoned  "he'd  carry  it  to  St. 
John's  himself,  and  sell  it  straight  to  the  big 
merchants."  "They  gives  more'n  the  small 
peddlers,"  he  explained  as  an  excuse  for  this 
departure  from  the  time-immemorial  custom 
of  bartering  it  with  a  trader. 

Uncle  Solomon's  judgment  was  more  than 
justified  by  his  experiences  in  St.  John's. 
"Why,  they'd  as  soon  give  cash  as  trade,"  he 
reported.  "And  it  is  beyond  all,  the  way  them 
peddlers  in  the  shops  looks  at  a  bit  o'  cash." 
His  earnings,  to  his  surprise  and  joy,  reached 
far  beyond  the  mere  common  "heavy  stuffs" 

60 


Christmas  Voyage  of  the  Handy  Lass 

that  form  the  staples  of  life  in  most  of  the 
fishermen's  cottages.  Some  cocoa  and  milk 
were  added,  and  then  "some  of  that  Ameri- 
can tinned  meat,"  which  they  adore,  and  a  few 
other  small  luxuries.  Even  then,  Uncle  Solo- 
mon was  not  easy,  for  there  lay  still  in  his  un- 
accustomed pocket  —  a  bag  of  dollars  "that 
be  no  use  in  t'  winter  in  Icy  Tickle." 

So  a  consultation  was  held  with  the  "offi- 
cers '  on  board  the  Handy  Lass,  among 
whom  'Lige  and  Ben  were  privileged  to  sit. 
The  presumptive  problem  was,  'What  shall 
us  do  with  t'  balance  comin'  to  we?"  but  the 
real  question  at  issue  in  Uncle  Solomon's  mind 
was,  "Should  they  have  a  Christmas  tree?"  It 
is  wonderful  how  strong! v  one  determined 
member  can  swing  a  jury.  It  is  true,  Ben  was 
the  junior  member.  But  with  him  conviction 
was  so  strong,  and  the  rest  were  so  undecided 
as  to  what  was  best,  that  a  serious  effort  for  a 
combined  Christmas  tree,  the  first  ever  held  in 
Icy  Tickle,  was  finally  agreed  upon. 

AYeird  packages,  assorted  and  numerous, 
soon  crowded  the  small  storage  space  in  the 
Handy  Lass's  after  cupboards,  for  the  ship  was 
log-loaded,  both  below  and  on  deck.   Private 

61 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

corners,  long  hallowed  by  custom  for  tobacco 
tins  and  special  oddments,  were  cheerfully  re- 
signed for  mysterious  paper  bags.  No  spot 
was  sacred,  and  Uncle  Solomon  was  once  very 
near  to  complaining  when  he  reached  out  and 
found  his  little  pet  store  of  smoking-materials 
had  been  "tidied  up,"  and  only  a  soft,  pudgy 
bag  greeted  his  anticipatory  fingers. 

"A  southerly  wind  and  a  cloudless  skv  bc- 
tokened  a  sailing  morning,"  and  it  wras  with 
hearts  as  light  as  their  pockets  that  they  at 
last  let  go  their  shore  hawsers,  swung  off  into 
the  stream,  cat-headed  the  anchor,  and  steered 
out  into  the  open,  with  the  Handy  Lass's  jib- 
boom  pointing  "northward  ho." 

Uncle  Solomon  told  me  later,  "Boys  will 
be  boys,  but  them  lads  was  fair  beyond  all." 
Ben  was  for  hanging  some  of  the  packages  on 
the  cross-trees,  and  even  the  sober-minded 
mate,  Uriah,  seriously  considered  'Lige's  sug- 
gestion to  call  into  Sleepy  Cove  on  the  way 
"down  North'"  and  get  some  spruce  boughs 
to  fix  on  the  mainmast.  "Why,  folks  would 
have  thought  us  was  ruined,  and  the  ship 
were  for  sale,"  said  Uncle  Solomon,  "or  else 
that  us  was  over-proud  and  thought  us  could 

62 


Christmas  Voyage  of  the  Handy  Lass 

sweep  t'  seas.  But  still,  Doctor,  you  knows 
there  be  them  in  Icy  Tickle  what  has  never 
seed  St.  John's,  and  they  old  folks  be  easy  up- 
set, when  'em  has  n't  seed  t'  world.  There  'd 
have  been  talk  enough  about  we  as  it  were, 
for  Ben  had  lashed  a  large  animal  they  calls  a 
*  Steady  Bear'  onto  the  bobstay,  unbeknownst 
to  us,  in  St.  John's  harbor." 

The  dog  watch  was  over  —  the  first  watch 
was  set  for  the  night.  The  schooner  was  just 
airing  along  on  her  voyage  north  over  an 
almost  oily  sea,  and  all  hands  were  sitting  on 
the  rail  yarning  about  the  great  time  they 
would  have  at  Christmas.  They  were  keeping 
it  up  so  long  that  Skipper  Solomon  had  just 
come  up  on  deck  to  order  the  watch  below  to 
turn  in,  fearing  that  they  would  sleep  on  their 
watch  —  a  real  danger  on  these  moonless 
nights  in  December  with  the  ice  about. 

Suddenly,  without  any  warning,  like  a  bolt 
from  the  blue,  something  struck  the  vessel,  as 
if  it  had  been  the  hammer  of  Thor.  Like  a  wild 
animal  taken  unawares,  the  Handy  Lass 
seemed  to  make  one  great  leap  in  the  air, 
throwing  every  man  off  his  feet.  There  fol- 
lowed a  terrible  moment  of  horror,  and  yet  of 

63 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

hope.  The  men  by  the  lee  bulwarks  were  al- 
ready in  the  water,  but  the  skipper  grasped  the 
mainsheet  block  as  he  fell,  and  was  holding  on 
for  dear  life.  Against  the  clear  sky  he  could 
see  the  weather  rail  rising  up  and  up  and  up, 
as  the  ship  canted  more  and  more  over.  Under 
the  fearful  pressure  of  the  wind,  she  was  being 
slowly  driven  down,  much  as  the  giant  Gaul 
forced  the  bull  to  earth  with  his  mighty 
strength.  The  brave  little  vessel  was  like  a  live 
thing,  fighting  for  every  inch.  She  seemed  to 
be  making  one  supreme  struggle  for  life,  and 
now  it  almost  looked  as  if  she  were  gaining;  so 
much  so  that  though  the  deck  was  already 
nearly  perpendicular,  the  skipper,  clinging  to 
the  block,  had  time  to  get  out  his  jack-knife, 
hoping  to  cut  the  main  sheet,  and  so  ease 
the  pressure  from  the  mainsail.  Could  he  have 
done  it,  the  ship  might  still  have  been  saved. 
But  it  was  not  so  ordained.  Before  he  could 
sever  a  single  strand,  a  second  blow  struck  the 
vessel.  She  reeled,  staggered,  hung  for  one 
brief  moment  —  and  then  fell  over. 

How  it  all  happened,  and  how  any  one  ever 
managed  to  escape  from  beneath  the  ruin,  no 
one  will  ever  be  able  to  explain.  There  was  an 

64 


Christmas  Voyage  of  the  Handy  Lass 

awful  crash,  a  roar  of  falling  cargo,  a  fearful 
moment  of  utter  black  darkness  below  the  cold 
waters,  a  struggle  to  get  clear  of  wreckage,  and 
then  each  man,  grasping  some  hatch  or  board 
or  loose  case,  found  himself  floating  in  the 
darkness  in  that  frigid  sea.  It  has  often  been 
said  that  our  fishermen  are  like  limpets,  such 
is  their  power  of  clinging  on.  All  their  lives 
they  are  grasping  and  hauling;  and,  shaking 
hands  in  the  dark,  you  can  easily  recognize 
a  fisherman,  by  his  heavy,  bent  hand,  which 
never  straightens  quite  out  as  does  a  land- 
lubber's. 

There  is  no  need  to  make  apologies,  how- 
ever, for  their  strength  and  endurance  and 
courage  now  served  each  man  well.  The 
Handy  Lass  was  lying  flat  on  her  side,  unable 
to  rise  owing  to  her  shifted  cargo,  and  the 
sea  was  pouring  into  her  hatches.  Uncle  Solo- 
mon was  the  first  to  get  clear  of  the  water. 
He  had  crawled  up  on  the  vessel's  side  like  a 
cat,  going  hand  over  hand  along  the  lanyards, 
and  was  now  lying  out  on  the  starboard  bilge, 
clinging  fast  to  the  after  channel  plates.  In- 
stinctively he  at  once  began  calling  out  to  his 
men,  and  as  he  told  me  himself,  was  more  than 

65 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

surprised  to  hear  so  many  answering.  An  aw- 
ful sense  of  utter  loneliness  had  gripped  him 
like  a  vice,  but  it  was  soon  all  forgotten  as  he 
worked  his  way  fore  and  aft  to  help  his  strug- 
gling lads  into  temporary  safety. 

Almost  before  they  all  had  assembled  on 
the  boat's  bottom,  the  cyclone  had  vanished. 
There  was  scarcely  a  cloud  in  the  sky  and 
hardly  a  wave  on  the  sea;  only  a  sullen,  re- 
sentful  roll,  as  if  Father  Xeptune  himself  was 
growling  because  old  Boreas  had  played  him  so 
scurvy  a  trick. 

"Keep  up  your  hearts,  lads,"  said  Uncle 
Solomon.  'The  Lord  has  brought  us  through 
so  far.  Maybe  He'll  save  us  out  of  this  yet." 
Every  man  in  the  crew  acquits  him  of  even  a 
trace  of  complaining  this  time.  "  Keep  up  your 
hearts.  T'  boat  seems  gone,  but  I  'lows  we  can 
make  shift  for  a  raft,  if  she  floats  long  enough." 
With  that,  he  started  crawling  out  along  the 
rigging,  hoping  he  might  cut  loose  the  main 
gaff  from  the  sail,  and  so  have  something  to 
start  on.  Meanwhile  the  mate  did  the  same 
along  the  mizzen. 

To  the  shivering  lads  on  the  vessel's  side  it 
seemed  ages,  but  Solomon  says  it  was  n't  two 

66 


Christmas  Voyage  of  the  Handy  Lass 

minutes,  as  he  groped  his  way  out  over  the 
water,  before  he  discovered  that  the  ship's 
dory  had  broken  from  her  lashings,  and  was 
floating  upside  down  under  the  mainsail.  To 
how  many  men,  at  such  a  time,  and  in  such  a 
plight,  would  this  have  meant  anything?  It 
did  not  take  Uncle  Solomon  long  to  see  its 
possibilities.  With  his  clasp-knife,  fast  now 
to  his  wrist  with  a  piece  of  spunyarn  for  fear  it 
might  be  knocked  from  his  grasp,  he  began  his 
perilous  task.  Abandoning  his  hold  on  the 
more  solid  rigging,  he  flung  himself  into  the 
half-sunken  body  of  the  sail,  and  half-swim- 
ming and  half-wading,  he  succeeded  in  crawl- 
ing up  and  lying  out  on  the  dory's  bottom.  By 
clever  maneuvering,  he  managed  to  cut  away 
the  canvas  all  along  the  dory,  which  eventually 
bobbed  up  through,  and  as  dories  will,  imme- 
diately turned  right  over,  and  lay  there,  full  to 
the  brim  of  water. 

All  hands  knew  from  his  constant  calling 
what  he  was  doing,  and  long  before  he  had 
finished,  the  boys  had  cut  and  undone  a  hal- 
yard and  flung  one  end  for  him  to  make  fast  by. 

To  bail  her  out  was  now  the  only  difficulty. 
Once  that  could  be  done,  there  remained  at 

67 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

least  a  chance  for  their  lives.  But  one  tiling 
they  had  already  realized,  and  that  was  that 
there  was  not  much  time  left  them.  The 
water  was  fast  reaching  up  the  side  of  their 
brave  little  craft,  and  they  all  knew  well  that 
a  few  minutes  more,  and  her  efforts  to  help 
them  in  their  need  must  come  to  an  end 
forever. 

"Quick,  Ri!  Quick,  boys!"  fairly  yejled  Un- 
cle Solomon,  who  had  already  hauled  off  his 
big  sea-boots,  and  forced  one  into  the  mate's 
hands.  "Bail  for  your  lives.  We  must  get 
clear  before  the  ship  sinks,  or  she  '11  carry  us  all 
with  her." 

Now  began  a  veritable  race  for  life.  There 
in  the  dark,  in  that  sunken  dory  which  was 
only  kept  upright  by  a  fast-settling  vessel,  were 
five  men  bailing  out  water  with  their  sea-boots, 
working  with  all  their  might,  for  life  itself  hung 
on  the  issue. 

"  You  're  gainin'  on  her,  boys;  you  're  gainin' ! 
Let  her  have  it!  T'  seats  only  is  awash  now; 
t'  rail 's  free !  She  '11  float  us  in  another  minute ! 
Keep  at  it;  it'll  keep  you  from  freezin'!  Bail 
away!"  And  suchlike  encouragements  slipped 
off  Uncle  Solomon's  tongue,  as  if  he  had  been 

68 


Christmas  Voyage  of  the  Handy  Lass 

born  to  the  role  of  orator.  In  the  face  of  real 
danger  he  had  neither  desire  nor  time  for  com- 
plaints. Suddenly  like  thunder,  "Leave  it 
to  the  boys,  Ri!"  he  shouted.  "Cut  the  oars 
loose :  they  're  lashed  under  the  thwarts !  Push 
off!  Push  off!  We're  all  safe  now;  but  keep 
bailin',  boys!  keep  bailin'!"  Then,  so  that 
only  the  mate  could  hear,  "She'll  be  gone  in  a 
second,  Ri.   Push,  as  you  love  your  life." 

Even  as  he  spoke  something  came  up  from 
the  sea  beneath,  and  lifted  the  boat  they  were 
in  almost  out  of  water.  Had  she  not  still  been 
partly  waterlogged,  Uncle  Solomon  says  they 
must  all  have  capsized  again.  As  it  was,  the 
after  leach  rope  of  the  mainsail  scraped  all 
along  the  bottom,  and,  lifting  their  bow,  as 
they  finally  slipped  off  into  clear  water,  it 
nearly  sent  them  all  down  stern  foremost. 

Then  for  a  moment,  though  it  might  have 
cost  them  their  lives,  every  man  stopped  bail- 
ing. For  slowly  the  Handy  Lass  righted  her- 
self for  the  last  time.  Mizzen  and  mainmast, 
with  all  canvas  set,  were  uncannily  carried  up 
into  the  sky  out  of  that  horrible  darkness,  and 
the  great  gap  in  the  mainsail  through  which 
the  dory  had  come  grinned  at  them  all,  just  for 

69 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

one  moment,  like  the  evil  eye.  As  they  looked, 
the  stern  went  down  deeper  and  deeper,  and 
kept  throwing  the  jib-boom  more  and  more 
vertically  upright,  till  at  last  nothing  was 
visible  above  the  surface  but  the  bowsprit  and 
its  rigging.  Then  slowly  and  stubbornly  that 
sank,  too,  and  vanished  out  of  sight  beneath 
the  icy  waters. 

'Ben,  did  you  see  it?"  cried  'Lige. 

'"Deed  I  did.   It  was  grinnin'  like  Satan." 

"Sure;  it  seemed  to  put  up  its  hand  to  wave 
good-bye  to  us." 

"Put  up  its  finger  to  its  nose,"  answered 
Ben. 

They  had  completely  forgotten  the  danger, 
the  fact  that  they  were  still  up  to  their  knees 
in  water,  and  that  they  might  go  down  any 
minute. 

"Quit  foolin',  boys,  and  bail  as  hard  as  you 
can!"  shouted  Uncle  Solomon,  as  he  worked 
unceasingly  himself.  "What  did  you  see,  any- 
how?  There  was  nothing  but  the  old  ship." 

"Sure  there  was,"  answered  'Lige,  though  he 
was  now  keeping  time  with  his  father  as  they 
worked  at  the  water  in  the  boat.  "Sure,  Ben's 
1  Steady  Bear '  climbed  right  out  and  sat  on  the 

70 


Christmas  Voyage  of  the  Handy  Lass 

end  of  the  bobstay,  as  the  Handy  Lass  went 
down." 

Steering  by  the  stars,  which  seemed  to  be 
friendly  watchers  of  their  efforts,  and  con- 
tinually bailing  and  rowing  to  keep  all  hands 
occupied,  they  made  good  progress,  so  that 
before  the  day  broke,  the  land  loomed  up  only 
some  four  or  five  miles  distant.  Fearing  that 
any  minute  a  breeze  of  wind  might  spring  up, 
they  never  slacked  for  a  second,  and  an  hour 
or  two  later  they  landed  in  a  little  cove  at  the 
bottom  of  a  bay  quite  strange  to  them,  and 
with  no  inhabitants.  A  blazing  fire  was  soon 
under  way,  for  Uncle  Solomon's  water-tight 
matchbox  was  the  only  rival  in  his  affections 
of  his  pocket  Bible.  Then  a  few  miles  of  fol- 
lowing the  coast-line  brought  them  to  a  lonely 
house. 

A  whole  week  elapsed  before  they  succeeded 
in  reaching  a  port  where  they  could  find  a 
chance  to  get  passage  for  Icy  Tickle,  and  long 
before  they  finally  arrived,  the  "mothers  and 
wives  were  'most  despairing." 

No,  there  was  no  Christmas  tree,  either  that 
year  or  the  next  at  Icy  Tickle.  They  had  lost 
too  much  in  the  wreck  to  let  them  think  of 

71 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

more  than  bread  and  butter  for  many  a  day. 
"But,"  said  Uncle  Solomon,  "Doctor,  my 
missis  says  she  got  a  Christmas  present  all 
right.  It  was  me  and  t'  boys  that  t'  Lord  give 
her  back.  And  with  that  He  taught  me,  too, 
not  to  have  a  complainin'  mind  because  us 
did  n't  have  all  t'  things  t'  others  has.  'T  is 
a  grand  thing  to  be  alive;  better 'n  havin' 
things.  And  us  has  nearly  finished  the  new 
Handy  Lass  now,  Doctor." 

I  could  n't  help  smiling  as  he  finished  his 
tale,  for  after  a  short  pause  he  added,  "But 
we  'm  be  goin'  to  have  a  Christmas  tree  one  o* 
them  days,  all  t'  same." 


THE   GIFTS  OF   POVERTY 

It  was  as  wonderful  a  day  as  ever  the  old  earth 
sees, — a  cloudless  sky,  a  glorious  sun,  a  light 
offshore  wind,  and  our  ship  lolling  lazily  on 
the  deepest  of  deep-blue  waters.  The  supreme 
sense  of  joy  at  being  alive,  characteristic  of  the 
sub-arctic,  was  at  its  summit.  There  was  a 
brisk  tang  in  the  air  which  forbade  lassitude, 
either  of  mind  or  body.  Ashore  the  marshes 
were  stiffened  up  with  young  frost,  and  the 
fresh-water  lakes  had  just  "caught  over." 

The  annual  exodus  from  Labrador  which 
characterizes  the  approach  of  winter  had  be- 
gun, as  some  willow  grouse,  in  their  exqui- 
site fall  plumage,  and  a  brace  of  fine  fat  geese 
hanging  in  our  rigging  testified. 

On  every  hand  it  was  written  that  Dame 
Nature  was  busy  with  her  winter  preparations. 
She  had  posted  her  order  to  us  to  "get  out 
quick,"  in  brilliant  and  insistent  letters  of  salt- 
water ice  on  our  freeboard.  She  had  added  a 
glittering,  new,  white  "Plimsoll  mark"  right 
round  our  water-line,  and  had  attached  large 
white  traveling-tags  to  the  links  of  our  anchor 

73 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

chain.  The  whirring  wings  of  large  companies 
of  sea-birds,  "southward-bound,"  kept  sound- 
ing a  curfew  to  us  to  follow.  Even  our  cod- 
fish were  forsaking  the  shallows,  and  seeking 
the  deeper  and  darker  waters  at  the  word  of 
Her-who-must-be-obeyed.  The  mate,  sitting 
on  the  rail,  had  apparently  been  reading  my 
thoughts,  for  he  suddenly  broke  in,  "  'T  is 
getting  on  time,  Doctor,  to  be  thinkin'  of 
them  poor  underwriters,  ain't  it?*' 

A  little  later,  if  a  land-lubber  had  not 
noticed  the  square  blue  flag  with  its  white 
center  at  our  masthead,  he  would  have  won- 
dered what  gave  such  spring  to  the  heels  of 
our  sailors,  who,  to  look  at,  were  far  from 
being  fairies. 

A  ship  half  the  size  of  Columbus's,  the 
Atlantic  still  farther  north  and  grown  no  more 
docile  with  age,  the  winter  equinox  past,  long 
nights,  heavy  winds,  and  high  seas  expected, 
not  a  little  forbidding  ice  dotted  about  the 
horizon  —  all  these  together  cannot  stop  men 
who  have  a  vision  of  home  from  whistling  at 
their  work.  Indeed,  the  only  additional  tonic 
to  be  desired  by  a  healthy  soul  was  just  a  good, 
keen  problem. 

74 


The  Gifts  of  Poverty 

At  these  times  the  responsive  nature  of  our 
men  of  the  sea  simply  overflows  with  kindness. 
A  company  of  our  Labrador  friends,  warned  of 
our  departure  by  the  blue  peter  at  our  main, 
had  swarmed  aboard  to  bid  us  "au  revoir." 
Yet,  in  spite  of  all,  and  of  many  little  souvenirs 
which  we  saw  passing  from  our  seamen's  kit- 
bags  to  those  of  their  friends,  to  whom  even 
such  small  gifts  were  of  no  mean  value,  an  air 
of  gloom  hung  over  the  section  of  the  little 
world  on  deck  —  a  tinge  of  the  sorrow  which 
eternally  hangs  over  things  human  and  tran- 
sient. 

Among  the  group  on  deck  we  found  two  of 
our  oldest  friends.  They  were  of  a  more  re- 
served type  than  a  lonely  environment  usually 
produces,  but  they  were  known  as  bosom 
companions,  first-class  workmen,  and  excellent 
neighbors  in  time  of  need.  When  we  wished  a 
hospital  completed,  when  one  of  our  boats  had 
been  injured  and  needed  repairing,  — indeed, 
whenever  any  difficulty  overtook  any  one, — 
it  was  always  to  Uncle  Ben  and  Uncle  Abe 
that  our  little  world  turned;  and  when  it  did 
so,  it  never  found  them  wanting. 

We  knew  that  all  our  friends  were  suffering 

75 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

from  a  particularly  poor  fishing  season,  and  we 
who  were  bound  for  home  and  plenty  could  not 
hut  feel  a  soft  spot  for  those  left  to  face  what 
might  turn  out  to  be  the  hard  hand  of  hunger. 

"Are  you  going  to  meet  your  debts  and  have 
anything  coming  to  you  this  winter,  Uncle 
Abe?"   I  queried. 

"When  my  father  died,  Doctor,"  he  replied, 
"he  left  me  in  debt  to  the  traders.  I  just  turns 
in  all  I  gets  —  they  knows  I  do* — so  they 
keeps  me  along.  But  it  will  be  a  bit  hard  this 
time,  I  knows.  You  can't  expect  them  to  feed 
folks  for  nothin'.  There  won't  be  no  luxuries, 
I'm  'lowing,"  he  laughed. 

"That  was  a  bad  heritage.  I  should  hate  to 
leave  it  to  any  son  of  mine." 

"Bad  enough,  Doctor,  but  I'm  gettin'  on  in 
life,  and  the  Lord  has  n't  given  us  ne'er  a  child 

—  and" — he  turned  his  head  away,  as  he 
said  it,  though  I  knew  of  what  he  was  thinking 

—  "well,  something  may  come  along  yet." 

It  is  hard  that  the  necessities  of  one's  life 
should  depend  on  the  whim  of  another,  and 
that  the  dreadful  cloud  of  want  should  hang 
over  the  old  age  of  men,  who,  at  great  risk  to 
life  and  with  hard  labor,  have  spent  all  their 

76 


The  Gifts  of  Poverty 

active  years   toiling   as   producers   for  their 
country. 

Now,  years  after  the  event  told  in  this  story, 
an  old-age  pension  has  been  granted  them. 

There  were  tears  on  Uncle  Abe's  weather- 
beaten  cheeks  as  he  turned  round  again. 
They  were  not  for  himself,  but  I  knew  it  was 
of  the  beloved  partner  of  his  life  that  he  was 
thinking. 

"How  about  you,  Uncle  Ben?  They  tell  me 
you  have  been  meeting  some  head  winds  these 
past  two  years." 

"There  was  never  a  truer  word,  Doctor. 
What  wi'  losin'  nets  in  the  ice  last  fall,  and 
then  t'  schooner  on  Deadman's  Rocks  this 
spring,  there  won't  be  much  left  to  fill  the 
bread-box,  come  settlin'  day.'* 

"Oh,  I'm  sure  the  trader  will  do  as  well  by 
you  as  by  Uncle  Abe,"  I  answered.  "Only 
yesterday  he  was  telling  me  you  were  the  best 
dealer  he  had.  He  said  you  had  never  been  in 
debt  yet." 

"Maybe  he  would,  and  maybe  he  would  n't," 
was  the  reply.  "But  I've  never  owed  a  man  a 
cent  yet,  and  it  will  be  a  dry  diet  for  us  before 
I  gets  into  any  man's  hands." 

77 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 


it- 


You  don't  mean  that  you  were  born  and 
bred  in  Labrador,  and  were  never  in  debt?" 

"That 's  what  I  does,  Doctor.  I  settles 
accounts  every  October-end  these  forty  years 
since  I  fended  for  myself,  and  the  Lord 's  been 
that  good  to  me  that  I've  come  out  square 
every  time.  Yes,  and  had  enough  not  to  be 
hungry  either,  thank  God,"  he  said  fervently. 

"I  don't  know  many  other  men  on  the  coast 
who  could  say  that,  Uncle  Ben." 

"Maybe  there  are  n't  many,  but  there  are  n't 
many  like  my  Mary,  either.  She's  been  better 
than  another  half  of  any  voyage  I  ever  made. 
If  she  had  n't,  there  'd  have  been  many  a 
hungry  mouth  beyond  mine,  when  them  who 
is  run  out  has  to  take  to  the  komatik  trail  for 
a  meal  in  winter.  Why,  she  found  something 
for  every  soul  of  twenty-odd  folk  what  brought 
up  for  a  week  at  our  house  one  time  this  spring, 
and  over  fifty  dogs  ate  what  they  left  behind 
them." 

When  I  thought  of  his  meager  stock,  it 
sounded  like  the  old  story  of  the  widow's  cruse, 
only  here  it  was  the  woman  who  was  the 
"window  from  heaven."  If  I  had  to  guess,  I 
should  say  that  that  widow  of  Sarepta  was 

78 


The  Gifts  of  Poverty 

from  Labrador,  for  her  heart,  like  those  in 
Labrador,  was  so  much  larger  than  her  pocket. 

Before  sailing  we  slipped  ashore,  and  the 
merchant's  agent  kindly  let  me  see  the  books, 
which  loom  up  like  the  one  mentioned  in 
Revelation,  to  our  imagination  in  Labrador. 
It  was  all  true  —  Uncle  Ben  had  never  once 
failed  to  meet  his  score;  and  moreover,  there 
was  a  real  chance  to  give  Uncle  Abe  a  hand. 
Both  families  "tided  out"  that  winter. 

Ten  years  slipped  away.  We  had  sold  our 
little  sailing  hospital  boat,  and  in  the  steamer 
which  replaced  her  were  running  into  the  same 
harbor  near  Capelin  Cove.  Suddenly  a  flag 
floating  at  half-mast  on  the  hilltop  caught  my 
eye. 

"What's  wrong  ashore?"  I  shouted  to  a 
group  of  men  hauling  a  herring-net  which  lay 
almost  in  the  fairway. 

"Uncle  Abe's  missus  be  gone.  They're 
burying  her  to-night." 

An  hour  later,  sorrowful  enough  at  heart 
for  my  poor  friend,  I  found  my  way  to  the 
little  wooden  church  where  Uncle  Abe,  for 
many  years,  had  been  so  familiar  as  perpetual 
warden.    Not  wishing  to  intrude  at  so  sad  a 

79 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

moment,  I  waited  at  the  door,  while  the  little 
cortege  wended  its  way  up  the  hillside. 

With  bared  head  bowed  low,  Uncle  Abe  was 
following  the  humble  coffin,  but  as  he  passed 
me,  he  stepped  aside,  and  shook  me  so  warmly 
by  the  hand  that  he  left  me  wondering  at  his 
buoyant  spirit  in  the  face  of  such  trouble. 

The  ceremony  over,  I  ventured  to  call  in  at 
the  now  deserted  cottage,  only  to  find  Uncle 
Abe  home  before  me.  The  look  of  quiet  joy  in 
his  eyes  amazed  me.  Something  in  his  throat, 
however,  kept  him  from  speaking,  so  when  he 
motioned  me  to  the  chair  which  his  partner 
had  so  long  occupied,  I  waited  for  him  to  break 
the  silence. 

"The  Lord's  ever  been  good  to  me,"  he  be- 
gan at  last.  "Ben  helped  us  through  that  bad 
winter  you  minds  of,  and  now,  she'll  never 
want,  whatever  happens.  I  never  prayed 
much  'bout  particular  things,  Doctor,  'cept 
that.  But  I  used  to  be  askin'  every  day  that 
she  might  be  took  first  when  the  time  come; 
I  could  n't  bear  to  think  of  her  left  to  fend  for 
herself,  and  now  the  good  Lord 's  fixed  it  that 
way." 

A  little  later,  when  I  stepped  out  of  that 

80 


The  Gifts  of  Poverty 

lonely  cottage,  I  realized  that  I  owed  this  man 
a  debt  which  money  could  not  purchase  — 
the  assurance  that  even  we  can  contribute 
something  is  one  of  the  durable  treasures  of 
life. 

Ten  more  years  had  passed  away.  Uncle 
Abe  had  joined  his  devoted  partner  shortly 
after  she  left  him,  joyfully  looking  forward  to 
that  reunion  with  her  without  whom  life  was  a 
blank  to  him.  Our  work  had  grown  so  much, 
and  its  cares  and  problems  made  such  increas- 
ing demands  on  our  time,  that  we  had  im- 
perceptibly been  losing  touch  with  some  of 
our  fishermen  friends,  that  personal  touch 
which  had  been  of  such  value  to  us.  The  vi- 
tal channel  through  which  one's  life  can  best 
bless  others  had  been  almost  choked  with  anxi- 
eties and  "things."  The  advent  of  a  wireless 
telegraph  station  had  not  been  altogether  an 
unmixed  blessing,  as  it  summoned  one  hither 
and  thither,  often  on  trivial  quests.  Even  as 
our  chains  ran  out  through  the  hawse-pipes  a 
messenger  had  rowed  out  to  us  with  an  im- 
perious summons  to  hurry  south,  and  settle 
some  problems  which  the  lateness  of  the  season 
appeared  to  render  immediately  important. 

81 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

This  summer  our  boilers  had  blown  out,  and 
as  we  were  unable  to  replace  them  for  lack  of  the 
necessary  funds,  we  had  been  obliged  to  cruise 
the  coast  in  a  small  yawl.  It  had  seemed  an 
unmitigated  catastrophe,  for  we  had  been  de- 
layed again  and  again  by  the  fitfulness  of  seas 
and  storms.  But  these  very  delays  had  given 
us  time  once  again  to  visit  round  the  houses, 
as  in  the  old  days.  As  we  had  flitted  north,  we 
had  been  detained  at  Capelin  Cove  for  a 
couple  of  days,  and  had  found  the  last  of  the 
old  brigade,  Uncle  Ben,  on  his  beam-ends.  A 
severe  stroke,  twelve  months  previous,  had 
incapacitated  him  for  any  sort  of  work,  and 
now,  as  he  put  it,  he  lay  "a  helpless  hulk," 
dependent  on  his  poor  old  wife  and  only 
daughter  to  feed,  clothe,  and  nurse  him.  As  of 
old,  he  was  too  independent  to  ask  aid  from 
strangers,  and  his  little  stock  had  dwindled  to 
the  vanishing  point.  His  wife,  still  "better  to 
him  than  half  a  voyage,"  confessed  that  during 
the  winter  just  passed  they  had  been  short  of 
both  fire  and  light.  "Susie  saws  t'  wood  up 
when  t'  neighbors  brings  it  out  for  us;  but 
she  is  n't  strong  enough  to  go  into  the  woods 
and  haul  any  herself,"  her  mother  explained. 

82 


The  Gifts  of  Poverty 

"Ben  has  to  be  turned  over  a  dozen  times  in 
the  night,  Doctor,  and  when  it's  below  zero 
outside,  and  no  fire  or  light,  it  do  come  a  bit 
hard  on  an  old  woman,  night  after  night.  No, 
we  have  n't  money  any  longer  to  reach  to  oil 
or  coal." 

Yet  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  tiny  cottage 
was  infectiously  cheerful.  Uncle  Ben  lay  beam- 
ing in  his  bed  like  a  full  moon  at  harvest.  I 
was  bidden  to  "sit  right  in,"  and  share  a  cup 
of  tea,  the  absence  of  sugar  or  tinned  milk 
passing  unnoticed  in  the  genuine  joy  of  the 
occasion. 

I  Only  as  I  rose  to  leave  could  I  get  a  word  in 
private  with  the  women  as  to  the  ways  and 
means  for  the  future.  "I  suppose  Uncle  Ben's 
in  debt  at  last?"  I  ventured,  feeling  certain  he 
must  have  been  obliged  to  abandon  the  old 
rigid  law  he  had  laid  down  for  himself. 

"No,  no,  Doctor.  He'll  never  allow  us  to 
borrow  a  thing.  You  see  he  has  no  prospect  of 
paying  back." 

"I  see.  If  you  could  afford  it  you  would  buy 
some  coal,  oil,  bedclothing,  milk,  flour,  butter, 
a  jacket,  and  —  Oh,  never  mind  making  a 
list,  now.    I  'm  short  of  time,  and  I  must  say 

83 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

good-bye  to  Uncle  Ben."  Owing  to  his  malady 
his  speech  was  unintelligible;  but  there  are 
other  senses  to  come  to  one's  aid,  and  the  look 
in  his  eyes  was  full  of  peace  and  joy  as  he 
nodded  "adieu."  It  sent  me  away  grateful 
that  a  man  with  "nothing,"  had  yet  so  much 
to  give. 

Mother  Nature's  arguments  in  Labrador  are 
just  as  imperious  as  are  those  of  Father  Time 
with  mortality,  and  three  months  later,  once 
more,  together  with  the  fishing  fleets  of 
schooners,  the  birds,  the  beasts,  and  the  fishes, 
we  were  migrating  south  at  her  bidding.  It 
had  been  a  troublesome  summer.  On  some 
sections  of  the  northern  coast  the  fishery  had 
been  almost  a  blank,  and  we  had  left  many 
friends  anxious  for  the  winter.  A  number  of 
craft  had  been  lost,  in  an  unusually  violent 
storm.  The  expenses  of  our  own  work  had  been 
heavy,  and  there  were  troubles  in  the  outside 
world  which  seemed  to  render  the  raising  of 
money  for  it  particularly  difficult.  Telegraphic 
news  from  the  home  far  away  was  disturbing, 
and  we  were  being  pressed  to  hasten  on  with 
all  speed.  "We  met  nothing  but  head  winds  and 
high  seas,  and  now  the  violence  of  the  waves 

84 


The  Gifts  of  Poverty 

had  forced  us  to  run  back  on  our  course  and 
seek  a  temporary  shelter.  So  we  were  glad 
enough  once  more  to  drop  our  anchors  in 
Capelin  Cove. 

It  was  already  late,  indeed  quite  dark,  before 
we  had  secured  mooring-ropes  to  the  land,  to 
enable  us  to  ride  out  the  storm  in  safety. 
Even  now  our  little  craft  was  rushing  on  the 
seas  at  the  ropes,  threatening,  every  time  she 
came  up  short,  to  tear  everything  away  with 
the  jerk.  Having  done  our  best  to  make  her 
safe,  experience  told  us  we  had  better  get 
ashore  while  we  could,  in  case  worse  came  to 
the  worst.  It  was  much  too  dark  to  do  any- 
thing more,  and,  worried  and  anxious  as  we 
were,  patrolling  the  cliffs,  with  the  rain  beating 
its  way  up  under  our  oilskins,  only  helped  to 
add  to  the  general  sense  of  melancholy.  So, 
telling  the  men  to  find  quarters  for  themselves, 
but  to  keep  watch,  and  call  me  if  anything 
happened,  I  began  to  wonder  how  best  to  kill 
the  hours  which  would  hold  no  sleep  for  me. 
Suddenly  my  eye  caught  the  glint  of  a  tiny 
light  on  the  hillside.  It  was  Uncle  Ben's  cot- 
tage, and  like  a  flash  I  realized  that  there  lay 
the  best  source  of  comfort  possible.  Stumbling 

85 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

up  the  slippery  rocks,  I  was  soon  tapping  at 
the  door  of  the  familiar  little  cottage. 

His  good  "wife  bade  me  a  hearty  welcome, 
though  my  dripping  clothing  and  a  howling 
blast  of  icy  wind  and  rain  greeted  the  opened 
door,  tearing  it  from  her  feeble  grasp.  No 
sooner  was  it  safely  secured,  however,  than  in 
her  cheery  way  she  led  me  to  the  old  armchair 
by  the  bedside,  for  night  and  day  were  all  alike 
to  Uncle  Ben. 

I  found  the  old  man  as  usual,  beaming  all 
over  with  smiles.  Suddenly  a  most  unusual 
cloud  spread  over  his  features,  as  if  he,  of  all 
men,  was  seized  with  anxiety  about  something. 
On  returning  to  his  bedside,  I  found  him  fum- 
bling with  his  least  useless  hand  in  the  bed- 
clothing,  and  shortly  he  pushed  over  to  me  a 
bundle  of  dollar-bills.  Not  realizing  his  mean- 
ing, I  counted  them  and  handed  them  back  to 
him,  telling  him  the  amount.  He  at  once 
signaled  that  this  was  wrong.  So  his  wife  was 
summoned  to  translate.  It  appeared  that  a 
few  "things,"  like  coal  and  sugar,  had  arrived 
for  Uncle  Ben  while  I  was  North;  and  he  had 
at  once  suspected  me. 

His    daughter,    as   teacher   in   the   village 

86 


The  Gifts  of  Poverty 

school,  was  to  receive  forty  dollars  at  the  end 
of  November.  Uncle  Ben  had  induced  her  to 
discount  that  sum,  so  that  if  I  called  in  again 
and  proved  to  be  the  guilty  party,  he  at  least 
need  not  be  accessory  to  the  crime  of  indis- 
criminate charity. 

Uncle  Ben's  smile  was  radiant  again,  and  he 
was  trying  to  speak.  "He  says  he  don't  want 
to  go  home  owing  anything,"  his  wife  explained. 
"He  says  you  must  have  lots  of  others  worse  off 
than  he  this  year." 

t.  I  protested  that  it  was  merely  a  case  of  the 
windows  of  heaven  being  opened,  and  that  the 
Lord  had  as  much  right  to  feed  Benjamin  free, 
as  Elijah,  or  any  other  prophet. 

Uncle  Ben's  physical  eyes  were  dim,  and  I 
had  taken  care  that  the  tiny  oil  lamp  should 
throw  no  light  on  my  features,  but  his  soul 
was  not  to  be  deceived,  and  at  the  bidding  of 
his  eyes  I  submissively  picked  up  the  bills 
and  ostentatiously  put  them  in  my  pocket. 
The  moments  passed  quickly  as  we  talked  of 
the  old  days,  of  the  good  times  we  had  had 
together  hunting,  of  Uncle  Abe's  discomfiture 
the  day  my  retriever  stole  all  his  pile  of  ducks 
at  Gunning  Point  and  carried  them  to  the 

87 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

hospital.  Then  we  spoke  of  the  future,  till  the 
old  man  grew  as  gay  and  blithesome,  even  in 
that  sorry  physical  environment,  as  a  boy  of 
twenty. 

There  was  a  twinkle  in  Uncle  Ben's  eye  when 
at  last  I  moved  to  go  that  I  could  not  quite 
understand.  He  seemed  to  be  enjoying  some 
joke  all  to  himself.  "He  is  n't  satisfied  about 
those  bills,  Doctor,"  his  wife  hastened  to  ex- 
plain, as  she  saw  my  puzzled  look.  Hersays  that 
you  have  got  to  let  him  see  you  carry  them 
away.  Guiltilv,  I  felt  about  for  the  bills,  to 
satisfy  him  that  I  had  no  evil  intentions,  and 
was  fortunate  enough  to  find  them  under  the 
chair-cushion  without  his  apparently  detecting 
me. 

I  often  picture  myself  now,  like  a  whipped 
schoolboy,  with  my  oilskins  and  seaboots 
turned  into  Etons  and  polished  shoes,  shame- 
facedly walking  out  of  a  master's  study,  parad- 
ing the  evidences  of  my  guilt  between  my 
fingers. 

On  the  verge  of  a  long  Labrador  winter, 
from  the  threadbare  cottage  of  a  defenseless 
woman  and  a  dying  man,  I  was  carrying  all 
their  material  wealth.  It  seemed  to  stick  to  my 

88 


The  Gifts  of  Poverty 

fingers,  and  the  synonym  "  filthy  lucre,"  for 
the  first  time  in  Labrador  seemed  appropriate 
to  it.  For  I  was  again  realizing  that  I  came 
away  the  debtor,  and  that  this  man  who  had 
"nothing"  had  still  so  many  things  to  offer 
me. 

Fortunately  for  my  self-respect,  there  are 
more  ways  than  one  to  Rome,  and  before  we 
got  our  anchors  for  the  home  run,  we  had 
found  a  subterfuge  which  enabled  us  to  circum- 
vent even  our  friend's  scruples,  and  yet  make 
our  message  to  him  speak  in  those  material 
terms  which  alone  we  felt  qualified  to  use  when 
dealing  with  Uncle  Ben. 


PAINGO,  TIIE  LONELY  ONE 

Attataksuak  was,  though  a  young  man,  well 
known  all  along  that  inarvelously  beautiful 
part  of  the  northern  Labrador  coast  where  the 
great  Tongak,  or  Devil's,  Mountains  abut  on 
the  Atlantic  seaboard.  There  the  eternal  forces 
of  ice  and  ocean  have  cut  away  moraines  and 
foothills,  till  all  along  the  coast  for  many  miles 
huge  cliffs  two  thousand  feet  in  height  frown 
at  the  approaching  stranger,  striking  terror 
into  the  heart  of  any  one  not  accustomed  to 
find  such  deep  water  running  home  to  the 
land,  so  that  only  in  places  many  miles  apart 
can  bottom  be  found  in  water  shallow  enough 
for  a  vessel  to  drop  an  anchor  and  find  safety 
in  time  of  stress. 

Such  natural  conditions  produce,  in  those 
who  have  to  wrest  a  living  from  their  envi- 
ronment, similar  characteristics,  and  among 
a  really  courageous  people  Attataksuak  had 
already  attained  an  enviable  position  as  a 
leader  among  his  fellows. 

Women  are  scarce  in  Labrador.    There  ap- 

90 


Paingo,  the  Lonely  One 

pears  to  be  an  unusual  difficulty  in,  or  possibly 
less  earnest  attention  paid  to,  the  rearing  of 
female  children,  and  it  is  by  no  means  easy, 
nay,  by  no  means  possible  always,  to  secure 
a  wife.  In  spite  of  this  fact,  it  was  not  at  all 
unusual  or  considered  strange  that  the  chief 
men  should  annex  more  than  one  lady  part- 
ner. The  Moravians,  indeed,  have  a  rule  that 
a  widow  shall  not  remarry  for  a  fortnight  —  to 
avoid  the  rush.  Among  the  Eskimo,  women 
are  most  rightly  esteemed  as  a  valuable  ad- 
junct  to  everyday  life,  and  the  modern  woman, 
suffragette  or  otherwise,  would  always  secure 
all  her  rights  in  an  Eskimo  familv.  These 
rights  they  seldom  or  never  refuse  to  accept, 
and  I  have  seen  the  women  more  than  once  do 
all  the  rowing  while  the  husband  steered  and 
cheered  them  on;  or  carrying  all  the  weights 
when  the  almost  continual  peregrinations  of 
this  nomadic  race  made  it  necessary  for  a 
house  to  be  moved,  or  other  heavy  manual 
work  to  be  done.  The  women  have  accorded 
them  many  other  privileges  of  developing 
and  occupying  their  energies,  as  the  cook- 
ing, clothes-making,  skin-dressing;  and  indeed 
everything  except  the  actual  hunting  has  long 

91 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

ago  been  handed  over  to  them  by  their  gallant 
and  up-to-date  husbands. 

In  the  year  1890  Attataksuak  found  him- 
self in  a  dilemma.  He  had  arrived  at  that 
period  of  life  at  which  the  Eskimo  brave  is 
expected  to  take  a  wife,  and  set  up  for  himself. 
The  keen  delights  of  hunting  and  fishing,  and 
a  good  nature  which  made  him  loath  to  deprive 
his  parents  of  the  support  which  he  brought 
into  their  igloo,  had,  indeed,  led  him  to  delay 
that  momentous  event  longer  than  most  young 
men  —  a  fact  which  unfortunately  reflected  on 
his  acceptability  among  the  ladies  of  his  tribe. 
Added  to  this,  there  had  been  of  late  some 
little  trouble  in  his  own  family  circle  as  to  the 
use  of  certain  boats  and  weapons  he  considered 
his  own.  Moreover,  there  were  other  sons  now 
old  enough  to  fill  his  place,  and  altogether 
things  had  come  to  such  a  state  that  the  natu- 
ral desire  in  every  man  for  a  home  of  his  own 
was  fiercely  kindled,  and  his  nature,  like  most 
of  his  race,  was  such  that  the  desire  became  a 
passion  over  which  he  had  no  control.  A  wife 
he  must  have,  and  that  at  once. 

Fortunately  for  him,  in  the  very  best  igloo 
in  Xakvak  Bay  was  a  most  desirable  daughter. 

92 


Paingo,  the  Lonely  One 

Oddly  enough,  her  name,  Paingo,  signified 
"the  lonely  one,"  a  description  which  singu- 
larly ill  characterized  her  experiences  up  to 
date.  But  in  spite  of  many  suitors  she  was 
not  yet  irrevocably  attached.  Courtship  with 
Attataksuak  was  carried  on  with  the  same  im- 
petuosity as  hunting  —  a  policy  which  appar- 
ently answers  well  in  Eskimo-land.  For  in  a 
short  while  "the  lonely  one  "  had  yielded  to  his 
assaults  and  had  become  his  affianced  bride. 
There  is,  as  a  rule,  no  further  trouble  "down 
North."  The  parents  are  almost  always  will- 
ing to  part  with  their  daughters,  recognizing, 
no  doubt,  the  futility  of  withholding  their 
consent.  Tribal  customs,  however,  are  often 
stronger  than  force  of  arms,  and,  Attataksuak 
being  extremely  persona  grata,  everything  was 
soon  settled  except  the  quid  pro  quo. 

Eskimo  women,  endowed  with  such  privi- 
leges as  I  have  suggested,  are  commercial  as- 
sets of  no  mean  value,  and  the  only  question 
which  worried  Attataksuak  was  what  would 
be  demanded  from  him  in  return  for  Paingo. 

Ooavigoo,  his  prospective  mother-in-law, 
from  every  point  of  view  was  a  most  desirable 
family  connection.   For  the  almost  universal 

93 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

kindly  good  nature  and  hospitality  of  the 
Eskimo  was  simply  personified  in  her.  On  one 
point  only  was  she  well  known  to  take  a  possi- 
bly unreasonable  position.  For  some  reason  or 
other,  when  her  own  time  had  come  to  leave 
home,  a  high  price  had  been  demanded  for  her, 
and  even  among  an  almost  communistic  people 
she  had  never  failed  to  impress  upon  succeed- 
ing debutantes  the  social  distinction  which  that 
equivalent  signified. 

So  when  poor  Attataksuak  at  last  arrived  at 
the  fateful  question,  he  was  not  surprised  to 
hear  old  Ooavigoo  embark  on  the  oft-repeated 
story.  "For  me  in  my  day  a  full  oomiavik  was 
paid.  My  father  would  not  hear  of  his  daugh- 
ter leaving  the  igloo  at  a  lower  cost.  Takollik 
[Four-eyed  Dog]  was  glad  enough  to  get  me 
at  that  price.  He  must,  indeed,  ask  a  price  for 
our  daughter  which  is  comparable  to  what  he 
paid." 

Attataksuak's  worst  fears  were  realized. 
Even  his  courage  received  a  shock,  for  he  at 
once  recognized  that  it  would  mean  his  having 
to  return  to  his  igloo  and  swallow  the  first  set- 
back he  had  ever  received  in  his  life.  Such 
experiences  are  far  from  trifling  to  a  race  who 

94 


Paingo,  the  Lonely  One 

never  seem  to  us  to  grow  out  of  boys  and  girls; 
and  Attataksuak,  crestfallen  and  heartbroken, 
spent  the  succeeding  night  on  a  lonely  rock 
buttress  halfway  up  the  steep  cliffs,  chafing 
over  his  cruel  misfortunes. 

True,  it  was  only  five  sealskins  Takollik 
was  demanding,  in  order  that  he  might  finish 
covering  his  kayak  for  the  walrus-hunting  in 
the  spring.  But  it  might  just  as  well  have  been 
five  hundred  so  far  as  Attataksuak  was  con- 
cerned, for  he  had  only  recently  given  the  last 
of  his  own  catch  to  his  parents,  and  he  knew 
now  he  would  never  be  able  to  get  them  back 
again. 

Eskimo  do  not  commit  suicide  so  readily  as 
Christians,  though  to  poor  Attataksuak  the 
world  looked  black  enough  to  make  him  wish 
he  could  incontinently  depart  for  happier 
hunting-grounds,  and  escape  the  humiliation 
and  disappointment  which  overhung  him  so 
heavily.  The  dawn  of  a  Labrador  day,  how- 
ever, is  a  stimulant  which  no  one  can  resist, 
and  it  found  Attataksuak  breakfastless,  with 
a  mind  intent  only  on  sealskins,  overhauling 
the  only  kayak  still  at  his  command.  It  was 
one  which  had  been  laid  aside  by  the  family 

95 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

before  he  had  announced  his  intention  of 
leaving  home,  and  therefore  had  definitely 
made  over  almost  all  his  possessions  to  the 
brother  who  was  to  fill  his  place.  Alas,  that 
kayak  also  was  short  of  nearly  half  its  cover- 
ings, and  would  be  useless  without  at  least 
three  sealskins  more.  Eight  sealskins  he  needed 
now  to  get  his  wife!  It  seemed  again  as  if 
Paingo  must  remain  "the  lonely  one,"  so  far 
as  he  was  concerned,  for  many  a  day  to  come. 
Then  there  was  always  the  haunting  fear  that 
some  other  suitor  with  many  sealskins  might 
dispossess  him.  Indeed,  he  was  already  sus- 
picious that  there  might  be  something  of  that 
kind  strengthening  the  old  man  Takollik  in 
withholding  the  hand  of  his  sweetheart.  For 
he  had  secretly  inspected  the  kayak  for  which 
Takollik  had  stated  he  required  five  sealskins, 
and  was  absolutely  convinced  that  no  more 
than  two  were  necessary. 

It  is  easy  to  find  friends  when  all  the  world 
smiles  on  one,  and  Attataksuak  had  never  yet 
known  the  meaning  of  the  cold  shoulder.  He 
was  astounded  beyond  measure  when,  after 
explaining  his  real  reason  for  asking  the  loan  of 
a  kayak  to  his  bosom  friend,  Pikulluk,  that 

96 


Paingo,  the  Lonely  One 

brave  had  made  many  specious  excuses  why 
he  could  not  lend  his.  He  was  luckier,  how- 
ever, in  a  second  venture,  and  with  a  kayak, 
itself  not  in  the  best  condition,  but  hired  on 
credit  that  he  would  contribute  a  sealskin  for 
its  repair,  he  was  soon  far  out  with  lance  and 
dart,  hoping  that  yet  he  might  somehow  come 
by  the  nine  sealskins  that  he  now  knew  he 
must  get  before  the  fiords  froze  over,  and  the 
seals  left  for  the  sunnier  South,  if  first  of  all 
he  was  to  obtain  his  bride,  then  pay  his  debt, 
and  have  a  kayak  of  his  own  in  a  fit  condition 
to  fend  for  her  when  he  got  her. 

He  had  no  luck  the  first  day,  and  little  better 
the  next,  so  it  was  no  wonder  that  his  sleep  was 
disturbed  by  visions  of  seals'  tails  vanishing 
through  holes  in  the  ice,  and  that  the  lack  of 
his  usual  caution  exercised  in  approaching  his 
quarry  near  enough  to  make  sure  of  it  with 
his  rudimentary  weapons  was  time  and  again 
his  own  undoing.  He  had  not  been  forbidden 
to  visit  the  igloo  of  his  loved  one,  and  when  he 
ventured  to  spare  a  moment  from  the  rigors  of 
the  chase,  he  was  able  to  go  up  and  get  a  word 
of  cheer  from  the  lonely  maiden,  who  showed 
as  much  preference  for  him  —  or  for  his  repu- 

97 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

tation  —  as  it  was  customary  or  natural  for 
any  Eskimo  girl  to  possess  or  evince.  More- 
over, he  was  able  to  learn  a  fact  of  which  he 
was  already  suspicious.  He  had  a  rival,  a  very 
serious  one.  His  very  friend  Pikulluk,  to  whom 
he  had  so  sedulously  and  secretly  explained 
the  reason  for  his  stern  necessity  for  a  kayak, 
was  himself  an  ardent  suitor  for  the  maiden  of 
his  choice. 

Attataksuak's  pluck,  however,  did  not  desert 
him,  and  day  after  day,  and  almost  night  after 
night,  till  the  slob  ice  made,  and  the  "  sish  " 
actually  cut  holes  through  the  skin  covering 
of  his  borrowed  kayak,  he  unflaggingly  main- 
tained his  quest.  He  had  actually  secured  three 
fine  skins,  and  hope  loomed  large  in  his  opti- 
mistic soul,  when  the  owner  of  the  borrowed 
boat,  noticing  the  damage  accruing  to  his  prop- 
erty from  the  contact  with  the  fast-making  ice, 
and  seeing  also  a  very  visionary  chance  of  his 
ever  getting  even  the  hire  agreed  on,  much  less 
the  half-dozen  extra  skins  which  would  soon  be 
needed  to  make  good  the  wear  and  tear,  called 
a  halt. 

Now  the  ice  was  in.  No  more  skins  were 
obtainable  in  that  district  for  some  months  at 

98 


Paingo,  the  Lonely  One 

least,  and  poor  Attataksuak  was  fairly  on  his 
beam-ends.  He  was  forced  to  go  and  confess  it 
to  his  fiancee  and  plead  for  time,  which  he  had 
very  little  hope  of  ever  having  extended  to  him. 

Every  Eskimo  in  the  community  seemed 
now  also  to  know  of  his  difficulty.  Takollik 
was  obdurate.  He  had  spoken,  and  that  was 
the  end  to  parleying.  It  was  five  skins,  or  no 
wife-giving  for  him.  For  his  views  on  the  ad- 
vantages of  early  marriage  were  not  consonant 
with  the  maxims  of  a  former  President.  There 
was  no  mercy  either  with  old  Ooavigoo.  If,  for 
her  benefit,  Attataksuak  were  to  relate  the 
whole  gamut  of  his  woes,  he  knew  he  had 
nothing  to  expect  of  that  elderly  party  but  a 
reiteration  of  the  old,  old  story;  which  was 
enough  to  make  any  warrior  of  spirit  unpre- 
meditatedly  transfix  her  own  skin  with  that 
very  seal  dart  which  was  now  his  inseparable 
companion. 

It  was  Paingo  herself  who  at  last  came  to  the 
rescue,  and  persuaded  him  to  pocket  his  con- 
stitutional pride  and  to  adopt  the  last  resort 
of  the  destitute  —  go  about  and  beg  sealskins 
from  the  neighbors,  to  whom  formerly  he 
would  have  despised  to  admit  that  they  were 

99 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

capable  of  killing  a  seal,  anyhow,  when  he 
was  about.  Swallowing  his  pride,  he  at  last 
yielded  to  her  importunity,  and  started  off  on 
his  sorry  quest.  It  was  galling  enough  to  have 
to  ask,  but  to  be  refused  at  igloo  after  igloo, 
and  tubik  after  tubik,  was  more  than  he  could 
bear.  For  to  him  the  many  specious  excuses 
with  which  he  was  greeted  at  every  attempt 
were  just  so  many  dagger-thrusts  into  his  very 
soul.  When  he  learned  later  that  his  now  hated 
rival  had  adopted  the  methods  of  more  civ- 
ilized countries,  and  literallv  cornered  the 
market  on  the  few  remaining  skins  which  had 
not  already  been  exchanged  at  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company  post,  he  felt  once  more  like 
climbing  the  cliff  as  he  had  done  the  first 
night,  and  ending  his  misery  by  jumping  off, 
the  "hari-kari"  of  Eskimo-land. 

The  last  straw  seemed  now  to  have  been 
piled  on  his  already  straining  back.  The  only 
remaining  question  was  whether  it  would  not 
be  permissible  to  make  one  last  visit  to  the 
Takollik  igloo,  and  bid  a  fond  farewell  to  the 
object  of  his  devotions.  This  time  his  good 
genius  favored  him,  and  with  a  sad  and  now 
hopeless  heart  he  once  more  wended  his  way 

100 


Paingo,  the  Lonely  One 

thither.  And  now  the  phenomenon  not  un- 
known in  civilization  proved  to  be  as  universal 
as  the  human  race.  The  very  circumstances 
which  defeated  and  foiled  the  man  had  only 
served  to  set  the  woman's  wits  a- working  — 
and  once  more  "the  lonely  one"  came  to  the 
rescue.  Where  had  all  the  sealskins  gone? 
Pikulluk  she  knew  was  not  the  man  ordinarily 
to  store  away  his  acquisitions.  Surely  he  must 
have  taken  them  to  that  great  fathomless 
repository  of  all  skins,  to  the  storehouse  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company.  Well  she  knew  that 
once  a  skin  passed  those  acquisitive  portals, 
the  laws  of  the  great  Company,  like  those  of 
the  Medes  and  Persians,  could  not  be  broken, 
and  none  could  be  sold  by  the  agent,  whether 
he  wished  to  do  so  or  not.  Nay,  if  the  local 
factor  himself  shot  or  trapped  a  skin,  it  was 
well  known  that  even  that  skin  was  not  his 
to  do  with  as  he  wished.  It  was  no  sooner 
stretched  and  dried  than  it  became  the  irre- 
deemable property  of  the  great  white  men  over 
the  waters  —  or  rather,  of  the  great  white 
Queen  herself,  so  Paingo  thought. 

Yet  she  knew  the  agent  was  a  kindly  man. 
Had  not  he  and  his  wife  many  times  visited 

101 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

their  igloo?  Had  he  not,  more  than  once, 
brought  food  and  medicine  to  their  family 
when  they  were  ill?  And,  indeed,  had  he  not, 
on  one  occasion,  himself  borne  his  large  boat, 
lashed  upon  two  sledges,  over  twenty  miles 
across  the  ice  and  snow  of  those  terrible  hills 
in  winter,  that  he  might  risk  his  own  life  en- 
deavoring to  save  a  poor  Eskimo  who  had 
been  carried  off  to  sea  on  the  running  ice? 

Already  Attataksuak  had  swallowed  his 
pride  once.  "Would  he  not  be  willing  to  go  yet 
one  step  farther?  It  was  the  only  possible 
chance  which  remained  untried.  Should  they 
not  go  hand  in  hand,  and,  explaining  all  cruel 
circumstances  of  the  case,  throw  themselves 
entirely  on  the  great  white  man's  mercy? 

Long  and  earnestly  that  fateful  night  the 
lovers  discussed  and  rediscussed  every  possi- 
ble and  probable  outcome  of  such  a  step,  and 
already  the  dawning  of  the  final  day  had  come 
before  Attataksuak  had  once  more  vielded  to 
the  importunities  of  the  maiden,  which  were 
now  nothing  less  than  abject  entreaties  ;  and 
had  agreed  that,  although  he  would  not  per- 
mit her  to  risk  the  criticism  resulting  from  a 
possible  refusal,   he  would  himself  face  the 

102 


Paingo,  the  Lonely  One 

hardest  test  that  he  had  ever  felt  called  upon 
to  meet,  and  go  alone  and  appeal  to  the  Com- 
pany's agent  to  break  the  unbreakable  laws. 

Though  with  the  diffidence  of  his  race  he 
would  face  single-handed  a  bull  walrus  in 
the  roughest  sea,  with  only  his  skin  boat  and 
hand  dart,  it  was  an  unstrung  and  panic- 
stricken  man  who  might  have  been  seen  that 
morning  hesitatingly  waiting,  half-hidden  be- 
hind the  well-known  storehouse.  He  realized, 
however,  that  thinking  and  hoping  there  was 
of  little  avail,  and  at  last  the  requisite  courage 
came,  and  he  boldly  faced  the  implacable 
person  who  was  to  decide  his  fate. 

Once  inside  the  door,  that  courage  again 
evaporated,  and,  when  asked  in  the  most 
kindly  manner  what  it  was  that  had  brought 
him  there,  he  could  not  force  himself  to  ask  for 
more  than  the  price  of  some  trifling  commodity 
which  he  caught  sight  of  on  a  store  shelf. 
Fortunately  the  agent  was  a  man  of  no  little 
perspicacity,  and,  though  never  intruding  upon 
the  love  affairs  of  the  people  among  whom  he 
lived,  he  at  once  noticed  the  unusual  sadness 
in  a  man  whom  he  had  always  known  as  the 
sunniest  of  his  sunny  customers. 

103 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

"What's  the  matter  [ochautclaunga],  Atta- 
taksuak  ?  It  is  n't  duffel  you  came  after,  I 
know.  If  there  is  anything  on  your  mind  that 
I  can  help  you  with  [kailligit],  come  right  in, 
and  let  me  know  what  your  trouble  is.  I'm 
only  too  glad  to  do  anything  I  can  to  serve 

you." 

It  was  n't  the  correct  language,  —  which  the 
agent  had  learned  to  speak  when  he  was  a  little 
boy,  —  but  the  genuine  sympathy  expressed  in 
his  speech  and  the  genial  smile,  which  served 
to  unlock  the  floodgates  of  even  a  stolid 
Eskimo's  emotions;  and  Attataksuak,  in  a 
very  brief  space  of  time,  had  laid  bare  his  in- 
most secrets,  but  even  then  without  one  word 
of  suggestion  that  the  agent  should  come  to 
his  rescue.  It  was  too  much  to  expect  that  the 
windows  of  heaven  should  open  and  shower 
ready-dressed  sealskins  on  an  insignificant 
"Innuk."  The  little  things  of  life  are  often 
enough  really  the  large  ones.  A  sealskin  is 
worth  at  Nakvak  about  sixty  cents.  After  all, 
the  price  of  "the  lonely  one"  represented  only 
about  one  dollar  and  eighty  cents  of  our 
money.  Yet  to  Attataksuak  it  was  more  than 
a  royal  ransom. 

104 


Paingo,  the  Lonely  One 

Lindsey  as  a  judge,  Worcester  as  a  clergy- 
man, Cabot  as  a  doctor,  are  impressing  on  the 
world  that  it  is  not  physical  but  spiritual  levers 
which  stir  deepest  the  hearts  of  men  and  affect 
most  materially  the  forces  which  make  men 
into  men.  Experience  has  taught  us  that  this 
truth  is  also  a  universal  one.  The  annual  visit 
of  the  great  Company's  steamer,  collecting  her 
load  of  furs  for  the  March  sales  in  England, 
had  as  usual  been  made  just  before  the  ice 
closed  in.  Everything  had  been  packed  and 
sent  off;  not  a  pelt  remained  from  the  last 
year's  hunt.  Nor  had  the  new  collection  be- 
gun. Not  a  single  skin  was  in  the  store.  Pi- 
kulluk  had  been  farther-sighted  than  Paingo 
had  anticipated,  and  was  holding  tight  to 
every  skin  he  had  gathered. 

It  was,  indeed,  an  anxious  time  for  Atta- 
taksuak,  when,  after  the  explanation  of  the 
dilemma,  the  kindly  agent  told  him  to  wait 
while  he  went  inside  and  consulted  his  better 
half  —  a  proceeding  which,  judging  from  his 
own  experience,  Attataksuak  had  no  reason 
to  discredit.  After  a  short  absence,  the  good 
fellow  returned,  bearing  in  his  arms  a  large 
bundle,  which  he  proceeded  to  unwrap  on  the 

105 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

floor  of  the  store.  As  they  unrolled,  in  his  usual 
methodical  manner  he  counted  them  aloud 
—  one,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six;  just  like  the 
momentous  seconds  before  the  start  of  some 
exciting  race. 

It  was  positively  all  there  were,  and  well 
Attataksuak  knew  they  were  the  private  store 
which  the  agent  had  reserved  for  his  own  cloth- 
ing and  hoots  during  the  winter.  If  only  he 
owned  them,  he  could  put  two  to  cqmplete  the 
quota  to  pay  for  Paingo,  one  for  his  friend  of 
the  borrowed  kayak,  and  three  to  put  his  own 
boat  into  hunting  order.  It  may  well  be 
imagined,  therefore,  that  his  heart  almost  kept 
time  to  the  counting,  and  sometimes  very 
nearly  stood  still,  as  he  waited  to  hear  the 
wife's  decision. 

With  that  genial  smile  which  has  helped  to 
win  this  man  so  firm  a  place  in  the  confidence 
and  love  of  his  people,  the  agent  looked  up,  and 
then,  laying  his  hand  on  Attataksuak's  shoul- 
der, said  simply,  "My  wife  bids  me  let  you 
have  them  all  [aippara  ochamat]." 

It  is  not  in  the  power  of  my  pen  to  describe 
the  extent  of  the  reaction  in  poor  Attataksuak's 
heart.  Eskimo  do  not  cry.  This  Eskimo  could 

106 


Paingo,  the  Lonely  One 

not  speak.  He  just  lifted  the  roll  in  silence, 
and  walked  out  of  the  store,  almost  as  dazed 
as  if  the  factor  had  struck  him  on  the  head  with 
a  heavy  maul. 

Nor,  oddly  enough,  did  he  for  many  days 
return  to  the  store  to  try  and  give  expression 
to  his  gratitude.  To  that  the  passing  years 
have  affixed  a  seal  which  needed  no  conven- 
tional emphasis.  But  a  week  later,  as  the  agent 
was  sitting  at  breakfast,  he  looked  out  of  his 
little  window  and  saw  two  persons  coming  up 
over  the  already  hard-trodden  snow  pathway 
leading  to  his  door.  They  were  only  an 
Eskimo  hunter,  radiant  with  joy,  and  an 
Eskimo  girl,  her  face  alight  with  that  expres- 
sion which  it  is  the  supreme  delight  of  a  real 
man  to  have  kindled  in  the  heart  of  his 
"neighbor." 

They  had  no  money  to  pay;  they  made  no 
loud-sounding  promises  for  the  future.  As  I 
have  said,  the  Innuit  are  a  people  of  few  words. 
But  as  they  bade  good-bye,  using  the  Eskimo 
word,  acksnnai,  which,  being  interpreted,  is 
"Be  ye  both  strong,"  my  friend  assures  me 
that  the  hand-grip  meant  even  then  more  to 
him  than  the  temporary  inconvenience  of  a 

107 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

shortage  of  protection  on  his  long  winter 
rounds,  which  he  realized  the  sacrifice  of  his 
stock  of  skins  must  cost  him  before  Attatak- 
suak  and  his  bride  would  have  a  chance  of 
repaying  him  in  material  coin. 


THE  NORTHERN  CHIEF 

The  approach  to  Katatallik  in  North  Labra- 
dor is  guarded  by  gigantic  cliffs  which  tower 
away  up  into  the  sky  and  suggest  the  great 
gateway  of  a  Titan's  fortress.  The  fiord  runs 
in  nearly  straight  for  twenty-five  miles,  with 
just  one  deep,  lateral  cut,  called  the  "Tallik." 
This  branches  off  at  right  angles  between  two 
huge  precipices,  which  are  said  to  be  four 
thousand  feet  high.  The  dark  water  is  practi- 
cally bottomless,  while  the  entrance  to  this 
Giant's  Causeway  is  guarded  by  three  large 
reefs  lying  across  its  mouth  out  in  the  open 
bay,  by  the  icebergs  and  growling  ice-floes 
which  haunt  it  all  the  year,  and  by  the  im- 
penetrable fog  which  almost  perpetually  hangs 
over  the  cliffs. 

When  my  old  friend  George  Davis  was  sent 
there  thirty  years  ago  by  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  to  open  a  trading-post  for  them,  the 
Eskimo  were  all  about  in  that  region;  and  for 
many  years  after  Davis  lived  there  with  his 

109 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

wife,  far  north  of  any  of  the  white  English 
settlers  of  the  Labrador  eoast. 

Davis's  wife  died  many  years  ago,  and  his 
three  children  have  all  gone  away  into  the 
service  of  the  same  great  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany, carrying  on  the  ideals  of  their  father  for 
faithfulness  to  their  employers  and  kindly  good- 
fellowship  with  the  little  people  among  whom 
their  lives  are  spent.  Davis  himself  has  come 
South  to  spend  the  remaining  years  of  his  life 
nearer  to  his  own  folk,  hut  his  heart  still  re- 
mains away  "down  North,"  where  his  wife  lies 
buried.  He  is  the  cheeriest  of  companions,  full 
of  reminiscences  of  the  old  life,  with  loyalty  to 
the  Northland  and  its  people  simply  tingling 
in  his  heart  and  overflowing  in  every  other 
word  he  says. 

One  evening  we  had  the  good  fortune  to 
have  him  drop  in  for  a  chat.  As  usual,  the  talk 
reverted  to  the  days  at  Katatallik.  _  • 

"Doctor,"  he  began,  "did  I  ever  tell  you 
about  Kaiachuouk?" 

"No,"  I  hazarded,  for  though  all  Eskimo 
names  are  nearly  equally  unpronounceable, 
even  if  I  had  heard  of  this  one  before,  I  felt 
sure  the  story  would  bear  retelling. 

110 


The  Northern  Chief 


«« 


Well,  no  one  ever  need  tell  me  you  have  to 
look  beyond  the  Eskimo  if  you  want  to  find 
some  of  the  best  traits  a  man  can  have. 
Kaiachuouk  was  one  of  the  finest  sorts  you 
would  ever  find.  When  I  went  to  Katatallik, 
thirty-odd  years  ago,  I  was  just  a  raw  lad,  and 
I  remember  thinking  that  I  should  like  to  meet 
this  man,  after  the  story  some  of  the  Mora- 
vians told  me  about  him,  when  I  stopped  at 
one  of  their  stations  on  the  way  down." 

"I  remember  now,"  said  I;  "you  have  told 
me  about  him.  He  was  the  little  chap  who 
stood  and  guarded  the  entrance  to  the  bear's 
cave  for  hours,  while  his  father  ran  home  for 
his  gun." 

'Yes,  that's  so,  but  that's  not  what  I  was 
going  to  tell  you,"  rejoined  my  friend,  not  to 
be  cheated  out  of  relating  the  exploits  of  the 
local  hero. 

'That's  right,  don't  you  be  put  off.    I've 
never  heard  it  anyway,"  chimed  in  my  wife. 
Thus  fortified,  George  went  on. 

'Well,  you  know  the  Moravian  records  of 
temperatures  are  about  the  best  ever.  They ' ve 
kept  them  ever  since  they  came  on  the  Coast, 
a  hundred  and  thirty  years  ago,  and  they 

111 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

report  that  the  winter  of  18 —  was  the  severest 
known.  What  made  it  all  the  worse  was  that 
the  Eskimo  had  had  a  mighty  poor  season  with 
cod  and  trout;  and  then,  to  cap  the  climax,  if 
the  deer  did  n't  go  inland,  instead  of  coming 
out  to  the  landwash  after  fawning.  Next 
thing  they  knew  the  seal-fishery  was  cut  off, 
because  the  sea  froze  solid,  and  the  seals  had 
to  move  South  pretty  lively.  I  can  mind"  — 
Davis  occasionally  lapses  into  the  vernacular 
of  the  Coast  when  he  becomes  ruminative,  — 
"yes,  that  was  the  year  when  even  the  Nasco- 
pee  Indians  had  to  come  out  of  the  country 
because  they  were  starving." 

1  You  're  right,  Davis.  It  was  that  year  that 
I  can  remember,  steaming  up  the  fiord,  seeing 
the  bones  of  forty  of  them  lying  on  the  beach. 
It  looked  like  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death." 

"At  that  time  Kaiachuouk  was  not  much 
more  than  a  lad,  but  he  showed  then  he  was 
worth  twenty  Semijaks  as  a  chief.  Things 
were  coming  to  a  pretty  pass.  Poor  old  Kav- 
anga  and  his  family  were  all  found  lying  dead 
at  the  bottom  of  Suksulliuk  Bay.  To-day  you 
can  see  the  bones  of  Tellegauiak,  Kaiachuouk's 

112 


The  Northern  Chief 

uncle,  lying  just  above  the  landwash  at  Nak- 
sauliuk.  It  was  enough  to  make  any  one  lose 
hope.  But  Kaiachuouk  was  made  of  better 
stuff  than  that.  He  could  hardly  stand,  and  he 
looked  like  such  a  skeleton  that  his  best  friend 
would  n't  have  known  him,  but  one  bitter 
morning  he  started  out  alone  just  to  see  if  there 
was  one  last  chance  of  getting  food  for  his 
people.  I  can  remember,  as  if  it  was  yesterday, 
how  Mr.  Riecman  (you  know  him,  the  Mora- 
vian missionary)  told  me  that  Kaiachuouk 
had  n't  had  a  thing  to  eat  for  forty-eight  hours, 
but  he  just  kept  on  munching  at  his  skin 
gloves.  I  guess  it  must  have  been  to  keep  him 
from  thinking  about  killing  himself,  for  those 
gloves  were  pretty  well  chewed  out  already. 

"When  he  got  to  the  ice-edge,  the  first 
thing  he  saw  was  a  seal's  blow-hole.  He  was  so 
afraid  of  moving  that  he  tied  his  legs  together, 
and  there  he  sat,  hour  after  hour,  and  chewed 
away  at  those  skin  mittens  and  held  on  to  his 
harpoon.  Some  time  after  noon,  —  must  have 
been  two  o'clock  or  so,  —  he  heard  the  scratch- 
ing of  the  seal  coming  back.  He  only  stuck  his 
head  up  above  the  ice  one  second,  but  that  was 
time  enough  for  Kaiachuouk.    He  drove  his 

113 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

harpoon  right  through  to  his  throat.  He 
dragged  that  seal  back  himself;  then  he  boiled 
it,  so  they  should  n't  lose  any  of  the  nourish- 
ment, and  he  divided  up  the  whole  lot  equally 
among  those  poor  creatures. 

"The  next  day  another  young  fellow  felt 
strong  enough  to  go  out  to  the  ice  with  Kaia- 
chuouk.  You  know  the  rocks  there  at  Nak- 
sauliuk.  They  are  so  exposed  to  the  wind  that 
the  snow  never  lies  on  them.  Sure  enough, 
when  those  two  came  along  what  should  they 
see  but  an  old  square-flipper,  lying  out  and 
sunning  himself.  Well,  if  the  beast  had  been 
a  few  yards  nearer,  Kaiachuouk  would  have 
risked  a  shot  at  him  with  his  harpoon  and  line, 
but  as  it  was  he  did  n't  dare.  It  was  just  as 
well  for  the  whole  lot  of  them  then  that  the  lad 
knew  about  seals  and  their  ways.  He  lay  out  in 
full  view  and  called  softly,  till  he  caught  the 
seal's  attention.  Then  he  began  to  shift  about, 
and  changed  his  call  from  the  '  poo-yee '  that 
the  creatures  use  to  salute  each  other  to  as 
near  an  imitation  as  he  could  make  of  a  female 
in  distress.  The  old  bull  got  mighty  uneasy  at 
that,  and  reared  up  and  exposed  his  whole 
neck  and  chest." 

114 


The  Northern  Chief 

"  What  a  shot!  "  I  interrupted.  "You  don't 
mean  to  say  that  the  man  had  to  let  that 
goby?" 

"Yes,  he  did.  He  had  to  lie  and  watch  that 
seal  glide  off  into  the  water,  and  disappear  in 
the  swell  that  was  rolling  up  on  to  the  cliffs. 
The  splash  had  told  him  that  this  was  a  fright- 
ened dive  and  that  the  old  square-flipper  was 
approaching  under  water.  He  knew  just  what 
curious  beasts  seals  are,  and  he  felt  sure  that  in 
a  minute  he  would  stick  his  head  out  of  the 
water,  to  see  what  all  the  fuss  was  about.  The 
next  second,  up  came  the  huge,  hairless  head, 
and  the  walrus-tusk  on  the  end  of  Kaiachu- 
ouk's  spear  went  straight  home  to  the  animal's 
throat.  But  one  thing  he  had  n't  been  able  to 
estimate,  and  that  was  the  strength  of  the 
creature.  His  line  was  not  long  enough  for  him 
to  take  a  hitch  round  a  rock  with  it,  but  it  was 
a  matter  of  life  and  death  to  him  and  his 
people  that  he  should  get  that  seal.  He  just 
took  the  near  end  and  tied  it  round  his  own 
body.  Though  he  was  braced  for  the  shock,  he 
was  whipped  off  his  feet  at  the  first  rush  of  the 
beast." 

"I  should  have  thought  he  would  have  been 

115 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

beaten  to  pieces  against  the  rocks  on  the  land- 
wash?"  I  hazarded. 

"  He  very  nearly  was,  for  he  did  n't  have  any 
idea  of  what  happened  for  the  next  few  min- 
utes. He  felt  as  if  he  was  being  cut  in  half,  as 
the  monster  leaped  into  the  air.  But  fortu- 
nately for  the  lad,  a  throat  wound  is  soon  fatal, 
and  about  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  get  up,  he 
knew  he  had  rolling  in  the  surf  at  the  end  of 
his  line  that  which  meant  so  much  to  fhem  all. 

"It  must  have  been  after  this  that  his  people 
decided  he  was  the  best  man  for  their  chief,  for 
always  after  that,  they  used  to  refer  really  im- 
portant matters  to  him,  and  not  to  Semijak.', 

The  Hudson's  Bay  Company  agent  at 
Katatallik  post,  before  Davis  went  there,  had 
had  many  troubles  with  his  people,  and  his 
policy  of  submission  to  their  encroachments, 
instead  of  dealing  firmly  with  them,  had  only 
succeeded  in  making  them  bolder  in  their  de- 
mands. So  it  was  with  an  anxious  mind  that 
my  friend  looked  forward  to  the  first  long 
winter  in  a  place  without  any  possibility  of 
support  from  other  white  men. 

He  did  not  have  long  to  wait  for  trouble. 
Brought  up  with  decided  views  as  to  the  keep- 

116 


The  Northern  Chief 

ing  of  Sunday,  combined  with  a  determination 
not  to  be  imposed  upon,  and  speaking  the 
language  fluently,  he  had  no  difficulty  in  mak- 
ing it  perfectly  clear  to  the  local  Innuit  that  he 
did  not  intend  to  open  the  store  on  the  first 
day  of  the  week.  He  was  not  a  little  surprised, 
therefore,  the  very  next  Sunday  morning,  to 
see  a  number  of  persons  gathering  about  the 
door,  carrying  bundles  of  furs  for  trade,  evi- 
dently intending  that  he  should  notice  them. 

It  was  a  dirty  morning,  and  very  unpleasant 
standing  outside,  but,  as  he  told  me,  he  said  to 
himself,  "It's  their  funeral,  so  I'll  pretend 
not  to  notice  them,  and  just  let  them  go  on 
enjoying  themselves."  They  pretty  soon  got 
tired  of  that,  however,  and  the  tramp  of  feet 
and  hum  of  voices  informed  the  agent,  even 
before  they  knocked  at  the  door  of  his  house, 
that  they,  at  least,  had  no  compunction  about 
breaking  the  day  of  rest.  Led  by  Semijak,  a 
number  of  men  forced  themselves  into  Davis's 
little  kitchen. 

"What  do  j'ou  want  [Sunamih  peumavit]?" 
he  demanded  sternly. 

"We  want  to  trade  [Neuvingaomavunga]." 

"I  told  you  I  do  not  trade  on  Sundays." 

117 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

"But  the  store  was  always  open  every  day. 
All  days  are  alike  to  the  Innuit.  You  must 
open  the  store." 

Argument,  explanation,  and  kindness  proved 
to  be  not  without  avail,  and  most  of  the  men, 
who  had  no  real  desire  to  trade,  anyhow,  went 
oil",  not  in  the  least  resentful.  Only  Semijak, 
who  with  one  or  two  others  had  carried  loaded 
guns,  seemed  bent  on  mischief.  Taking  matters 
into  his  own  hands,  the  agent  moved,  and  made 
as  if  he  would  go  to  the  store,  the  others  pre- 
ceding him.  He  had,  however,  no  sooner 
reached  the  porch  and  closed  the  inner  door 
behind  him  than  he  announced  to  the  chief 
that  he  might  just  as  well  go  home,  as  he  had 
decided  not  to  go  a  step  farther.  Without  a 
moment's  warning,  Semijak  fired  off  both 
barrels  of  his  big  gun.  The  charge  went  through 
the  roof,  making  a  large  hole,  wrhile  the  noise  of 
the  explosion  in  that  small  enclosure  was  per- 
fectly deafening.  Fortunately,  my  friend  was 
prepared,  and,  summoning  all  his  strength,  he 
struck  the  unsuspecting  chief  full  in  the  face, 
and  sent  him  sprawling  on  the  floor,  and  then 
promptly  proceeded  to  kick  him  under  the 
settle.    Meantime  his  friends  unconcernedly 

118 


The  Northern  Chief 

went  on  their  way,  without  even  trying  to  find 
out  what  had  happened. 

When  Semijak  emerged,  he  was  consider- 
ably less  offensive,  and  he  took  himself  off 
quietly,  except  for  a  few  muttered  threats  as 
to  the  nature  of  his  plans  for  the  next  day. 

Though  nothing  occurred  then,  the  young 
agent  was  on  the  watch  for  weeks.  Semijak 
and  the  two  other  recalcitrants,  however, 
never  turned  up,  and  if  they  did  trade,  they 
managed  it  by  proxy. 

When  the  winter  mail  of  the  Company 
arrived,  and  it  became  essential  for  Davis  to 
close  up  everything  while  he  covered  a  round 
of  four  hundred  miles  with  his  dogs,  he  left  the 
post  with  considerable  apprehension.  Youth 
and  open  air,  however,  and  the  physical  perils 
such  as  inevitably  attend  a  long  dog  trip  over 
the  high  barren  precipices  of  the  Far  North  are 
almost  unfailing  remedies  for  mental  worries. 
So  it  was  not  until  three  weeks  later,  when  the 
good  dogs  had  again  struggled  to  the  top  of  the 
craggy  pass  over  the  Tongak  Mountains,  and 
he  was  able  to  make  out  the  dark  line  where 
the  weird  fissure  of  Katatallik  lay,  that  his 
trouble  came  back  to  him,  and  he  realized  a 

119 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

feeling  of  anxiety  as  to  what  might  await  him 
on  his  arrival  home. 

It  was  a  beautiful  winter's  evening,  quiet 
and  almost  awe-inspiring  as  the  coming-on  of 
the  night  seems  ever  to  be  in  the  Northland, 
with  the  deep  dark-blue  shadows  in  the  lonely 
valleys,  the  air  so  clear  that  one  can  almost  feel 
it  tingle,  and  the  early-setting  sun  turning  the 
tops  of  the  distant  hills  into  glittering  crimson. 
Yet  Davis's  feeling  was  one  almost  of  exaspera- 
tion that  the  daylight  should  have  gone  so 
soon  and  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  camp 
for  another  night,  as  he  thought  it  unwise  to 
arrive  at  nightfall. 

"Look  sharp  there,  Paingo,"  he  called  out 
to  his  clever  little  leader,  as  early  next  morn- 
ing they  shot  away  down  the  mighty  ravine. 
Davis  lay  flat  out  on  the  komatik,  using  his 
own  feet  for  brakes;  the  runners  shrieked  as 
they  grated  over  a  bare  rock  in  the  middle  of 
the  descent,  and  the  dogs,  clever  beasts  that 
they  are,  leaped  out  of  the  path  of  the  rush- 
ing sledge,  and  scuttled  beside  it  down  to  the 
bottom  of  the  Tallik. 

This  was  the  last  precipice  to  descend  on  the 
homeward  journey,  so  in  spite  of  the  dozen 

120 


The  Northern  Chief 

miles  which  had  yet  remained  when  he  made 
his  little  snow  house  the  night  before,  the  very 
first  streak  of  dawn  found  the  agent  examining 
the  locks  and  shutters  which  he  had  so  care- 
fully barred  up  before  leaving. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  about  it:  the 
building  had  been  entered  during  his  absence, 
though  the  windows  had  been  all  boarded  up 
again,  and  the  heavy  hasp,  which  had  been  un- 
screwed from  the  door-post,  had  been  carefully 
replaced.  At  any  rate,  there  would  be  a  roof 
to  cover  his  head,  and  food  enough  remaining 
to  enable  him  to  journey  south  to  the  next 
post.  In  case  of  accidents  he  always  kept  a 
month's  supply  in  his  underground  cellar. 

As  for  the  Innuit,  there  was  n't  a  sign  of 
them.  All  the  same,  he  made  sure  that  they 
had  n't  laid  a  trap  for  him.  He  was  glad  he 
had  arrived  before  sunrise  and  taken  them  by 
surprise,  though  there  was  not  a  track  on  the 
snow  nor  a  sign  of  old  marks  to  indicate  the 
direction  the  marauders  had  taken  in  their 
flight.  Not  a  tree,  not  a  sparrow  to  keep 
him  company,  with  a  temperature  of  thirty 
below  zero,  in  the  half-darkness  before  the 
dawn,  which  was  all  the  more  gloomy  and 

121 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

desolate  at  the  bottom  of  the  ravine  into  which 
the  winter  sun  so  seldom  penetrates!  It  was 
the  loneliest  home-coming  he  had  ever  known. 
Whatever  happened,  however,  he  must  make 
a  fire  and  boil  his  kettle.  His  hunger  was 
imperious. 

Suddenly  his  eye  fell  on  his  faithful  dogs. 
Poor  beasts,  his  extra  camp  on  the  Tallik  had 
left  them  now  two  days  without  food,  and 
after  the  hard  work  and  bitter  cold  they  were 
looking  to  him  for  a  long-deserved  breakfast. 
Their  mute  appeal  went  right  to  his  heart. 
They  should  have  a  hot  meal,  and  that  before 
anything  else.  In  them,  at  least,  he  had  true 
and  loving  friends  that  had  proved  their 
staunch  loyalty  in  many  a  close  call.  The  dogs, 
wistfully  watching  him,  seemed  to  read  at 
once  the  resolution  in  his  eyes.  Pingasut,  a 
perfectly  splendid  black  and  white  specimen  of 
his  race,  stood  up  and  put  his  paws  with  ease 
on  my  friend's  shoulders  and  licked  his  face; 
while  Paingo,  his  clever  little  leader,  rubbed 
her  soft,  furry  side  against  his  leg.  The  others 
gave  that  peculiarly  pathetic  cry,  which, 
without  exception,  they  never  make  except  for 
old  friends.    They  seemed  to  realize  that  he 

122 


The  Northern  Chief 

was  in  trouble,  and  to  feel  that  they  were 
the  only  living  creatures  to  comfort  their 
master. 

There  is  nothing  like  love  in  the  world,  even 
if  it  is  only  a  dog's  love.  Davis  was  master  of 
himself  and  the  situation  again  in  a  moment. 
After  all,  it  was  a  good  thing  there  were  no 
Innuit  around.  He  would  have  plenty  of  time 
to  prepare  himself.  He  had  good  guns,  was  the 
best  shot  in  the  Bay;  and,  anyway,  he  felt  that 
a  determined  man  had  little  to  fear.  Then  he 
remembered  that  this  was  the  time  for  his 
people  to  be  on  their  walrus-grounds.  That 
must  explain  the  absence  of  some  of  them,  for 
he  would  n't  believe  that  they  were  all  mixed 
up  in  the  trouble. 

After  breakfast  he  went  to  estimate  his 
losses.  No  doubt  about  it,  a  considerable 
amount  of  goods  had  been  removed.  He  never 
had  had  any  experience  with  thieves  before, 
and  he  was  struck  with  the  thoughtfulness 
with  which  they  had  left  things  in  such  good 
order.  The  loss  would  be  heavy,  and  would 
greatly  injure  his  prestige  with  the  Company. 

Trading  in  the  Company's  stores  is  not  done 
with  a  cash  medium.  It  is  less  expensive  to  use 

123 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

symbols  which  bear  do  interest,  and,  if  lost, 
have  do  intrinsic  value  So  bone  counters  arc 
usually  employed,  unless  the  still  older  and 
more  remunerative  plan  has  managed  t<>  sur- 
vive of  piling  up  the  skins   on   the  floor  till 

they  reach   the  level  of  the  object   desired.     In 

this  case,  if  happened  t<>  be  counters;  and  a 
horrible  sensation  swept   over  Davii         he 

remembered  that  he  had  left  the  counter-bos 

in  its  place  in  his  desk.    It  was  lurked'  hut  what 

was  that  to  desperate  men.  He  rushed  t«»  his 
desk  and  dragged  out  the  little  box.  Yes,  it  had 
been  opened.  Those  counters  stood  f<>r  the 
pi.  of  the  great  Company's  absolute  re- 

liability: perhaps  it  was  the  thieves'  refine* 
incut  of  cruelty  t<»  force  him  day  after  day 
t<»  go  on  practically  robbing  himself  and  his 
masters  by  paying  oul  every  hit  of  Block  in 
the  little  store,  in  order  to  redeem  them. 

The   lock   of    the   little   DOI    was   ru>!y,   and 

Davis's    hand    trembled    bo    that    1  nld 

hardly  jerk  it  open.  Inside  was  a  rude  scrap 
of  paper  lying  on  the  top  of  the  counters,  which 

were,  he  was  instantly  certain,  untouched.  lie 
raised  the  hit  of  paper  to  the  window,  trying  to 
decipher  the  runie  characters  by  the  light  of 


The  Northern  Chief 

the  sun  which  was  just  now  beginning  to  il- 
luminate  the  valley;  and  a  greal  wave  of  joy 
swept   over  him  as  he  recognized   the  Bign 

manual  of  the  Northern  chief,  Kaiachuouk. 

At  first  he  was  puzzled  as  to  what  it  all 
could  mean.  Then  like  a  Hash  the  solution 
leaped  into  his  mind.  The  chief  had  not  come 
in  for  his  winter's  trade  before  the  agent  had 
left,  and  Kaiachuouk  must  have  arrived  just 
after  his  own  departure  with  the  mails.  As  he 
was  unable  to  wait,  he  had  helped  himself  to 
what  he  needed,  and  intended  to  bring  his  furs 
on  his  next  visit. 

Just  as  Davis  started  to  take  a  careful 
account  of  what  was  missing,  he  stumbled  over 
a  carefully  tied-up  package,  which  was  stowed 
in  a  box  and  placed  under  the  counter.  He 
dragged  it  out  into  the  center  of  the  floor, 
certain  that  it  was  not  a  box  he  could  have 
overlooked.  When  he  finally  got  the  bundle 
untied,  he  was  dumbfounded  to  find  the  num- 
ber of  skins  of  bear,  otter,  ermine,  and  foxes 
which  it  contained.  Kaiachuouk,  unwilling  to 
be  even  temporarily  in  debt,  had  left  at  least 
twice  the  value  of  the  goods  he  had  taken. 

It  was  not  until  many  days  later,  when  his 

125 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

own  [oca!   Innuit  came  In   to  trade,  and  gave 

him  the  message  the  Northern  chief  had  left, 
thai  he  learned  the  exacl  details.    Meantime, 
he  was  able  to  work  on  hi>  <>w  d  fur-path  w  itfa  a 
light  heart,  leaving  the  store  unprotected. 
Kaiachuouk's  party  had  arrived  the  very 

dav  thai  he  left.   The  whole  storv  of  the  tmnhle 

•  ■ 

with  Semijak  had  been  referred  to  him,  and  he 

had  spoken  in  no  uncertain  accents.    Semijak 

had  been  what  we  call  "hauled/1  and  cau- 
tioned to  behave  himself  in  future  as  became 
one  of  "the  people.91    No  one  was  allowed  to 

enter  the  store  but   Kaiachnoiik  and  two  of  his 

best  Northern  men. 

kaiaelnionk,    though   at    that    time   a    com- 
paratively young  man  himself,  was  happy  in 

the  possession  of  no  [ess  than  four  wives,  whom 

his  prowess  had  induced  to  trust  to  his  ability 

to  provide  for  them.  Thus  it  was  that  his 
arrival  Dearly  twelve  months  after  the  incident 
at   the  Katatallik  Post,  as  he  steered  his  lar_'e 

oomiavik,  or  flat-bottomed  skin  boat,  up  to 
the  station,  while  his  lusty  better  four-fifths 
cheerily  worked  at  the  sweeps  with  his  eldest 

sons,  was  almost  a  reL'al  procession.  In  spite 
of  all  the  miles  of  open  sea  that  he  had  to 

ISO 


The  Northern  Chief 

cover,  as  a  rule  he  brought  all  his  possessions 
in  his  boat,  and  topped  the  whole  with  his  dog- 
team. 

His  first  question  on  entering  the  store  was, 
"  I  low  much  do  I  owe  you  for  the  goods  I  took 
last  year  [AkdeksakaJeunga  tegulauiangut]?" 

"You  owe  me  nothing  [AkeleksakangilatiJe]" 
said  the  agent.  'I  owe  you  two  hundred  dol- 
lars [PeiUeksakakputit]." 

"I  am  glad  [Kugana],"  rejoined  Kaiachu- 
ouk.  %I  did  not  wish  to  seem  to  cheat  the 
while  man." 

It  is  six  years  since  I  last  visited  Katatallik. 
The  sky  was  black  with  an  ominous  bank  of 
cloud  as  we  anchored,  but  suddenly  a  bril- 
liant ray  of  sunlight  shot  through  a  rift  and 
illuminated  the  spot  where  the  old  post  had 
stood  for  so  many  years.  For  Katatallik  is 
deserted  now,  the  buildings  pulled  down,  and 
the  station  moved  to  a  better  trading  district. 

That  night  as  we  lay  under  the  forbidding 
shadow  of  the  great  precipice,  the  Northern 
lights  flashed  across  the  heavens  like  gleaming 
banners  —  banners  which  always  remind  me  of 
the  standards  of  the  gods  entering  Valhalla. 

127 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

The  little  people  of  the  North,  however,  call 
them  'the  spirits  of  the  dead  at  play."  I 
remembered  that  many  years  ago  the  spirit 
of  Kaiachuouk  went  to  join  those  hosts,  but 
the  memory  of  his  honor  and  bravery  and 
kindly  affection  still  lives  among  his  people. 
What  matter  that  he  was  "only  an  Eskimo"? 


UNCLE  'LIGE'S  STORY 

To  me  it  seemed  the  worst  blizzard  of  the 
winter.  I  had  not  thought  it  worth  while  even 
to  look  out  of  doors.  The  shivering  of  the  very 
house,  under  the  wind-pressure  of  the  furious 
blasts  which  swept  like  successive  avalanches 
over  the  ice-polished  surface  of  the  snow- 
covered  hills,  made  one  rejoice  that  there 
seemed  no  immediate  need  even  to  try  to  put 
one's  nose  outside. 

There  had  been  a  "mild"  the  day  before, 
and  the  unusual  occurrence  of  a  heavy  fall  of 
rain  in  the  middle  of  winter.  Now  Jack  Frost 
had  leaped  out  on  the  intruder  like  a  hungry 
sledge  dog  at  something  he  can  eat,  and,  hav- 
ing congealed  him  with  terror,  had  covered 
everything  with  a  glorious  ice  coating  which 
promised  to  our  dogs  five  miles  an  hour  in 
time,  and  nine  tenths  of  the  weight  of  a  load 
less  in  hauling.  As  soon  as  one  could  get  foot- 
hold enough  to  stem  the  wind,  like  birds  on  the 
wing  we  looked  to  start  on  our  Northern  trip. 
But  so  fierce  was  the  storm  that,  although  there 
could  be  no  loose  snow  to  drift,  one  could  not 

129 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

see  five  yards  from  the  window,  against  which 
innumerable  pieces  of  tiny  ice  were  cannonad- 
ing as  the  wind  tore  them  loose  and  hurled 
them  with  such  energy  that  the  glass  seemed 
a  mighty  poor  protection  against  their  on- 
slaught. 

Naturally,  therefore,  one  was  not  a  little 
surprised  to  hear  announced,  "Two  men  to 
see  you,  Doctor."  Yet  real  men,  indeed,  they 
looked,  when,  on  their  removing  their  simple 
but  effective  canvas  "dickeys,"  I  got  a  view 
of  their  keen  tanned  faces  —  the  ideal  of  per- 
fectly healthy  young  manhood. 

While  the  maid  hammered  out  and  hung  up 
their  ice-caked  clothing,  I  had  to  give  them 
time  to  clear  enough  ice  from  their  faces  to 
enable  them  to  open  their  mouths  and  eyes; 
for  from  eyebrows  to  chin  every  hair  had  a 
crystal  candle  hanging  to  it. 

"  Where  are  you  from,  and  whatever  brought 
you  out  on  a  day  like  this?"  I  asked. 

"From  Wild  Bight.  Uncle  'Lige  sent  us  to 
get  youse,  Doctor,  if  youse  can  bring  it  to 
bear  anvhow." 

"I  guessed  you  were  from  the  South,  for  you 
could  have  only  run  before  this  gale.' 

130 


>* 


Uncle  'Lige's  Story 

"That's  just  what  us  did,  and  had  to  crawl 
down  the  hills  or  we'd  have  broken  our  necks." 
And  then  after  a  pause,  "  Is  you  going  to  come, 
Doctor?" 

Our  men  are  utilitarians  of  few  words,  and 
after  all  that  was  what  they  had  come  to  find 
out.  For  my  part  I  knew  Skipper  'Lige  well 
enough  to  be  certain  he  was  no  squealer.  If  he 
had  sent  these  men  a  hundred  miles  to  fetch  a 
doctor,  something  serious  must  be  the  matter. 
Besides  that,  he  was  a  landmark  which,  for 
many  reasons,  the  Coast  could  ill  afford  to  lose. 

My  mind  wasted  no  time  debating  the  issue. 

"All  right:  I'll  come.  Sit  down  and  get 
some  food.  AYe'll  go  as  soon  as  the  weather 
breaks." 

It  was  not  altogether  the  weather  which 
made  it  a  full  four  days  before  we  reached  AYild 
Bight.  News  that  a  komatik  had  gone  down 
for  "t'  doctor"  for  Uncle  'Lige  spread  like 
grapevine  news  in  the  South  in  wartime,  and 
petitions  "just  to  come  in  for  a  minute  and 
see  the  baby,"  or  to  tell  them  "whether  Aunt 
Jane  was  doing  right  by  this  sufferer  and  that," 
intercepted  us  all  along  the  road,  and  cut  up 
the  journey  in  spite  of  our  haste. 

131 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

When  at  last  we  tied  up  our  dogs  on  the  top 
of  the  precipice  which  overhangs  the  approach 
by  land  to  Wild  Bight,  and,  partly  by  the  aid 
of  trees  as  brakes,  had  swung  ourselves  down 
into  the  cove  itself,  it  was  only  our  faith  in  the 
toughness  of  Uncle  'Lige's  well-seasoned  tim- 
bers that  gave  us  any  hope  that  we  should  be 
in  time  to  render  any  real  service. 

But  as  fortune  would  have  it,  we  were  still 
shaking  the  snow  off  our  clothing  and  cracking 
the  icicles  from  our  faces,  when  the  cheery  voice 
of  this  old  sea-warrior  from  his  bunk  overhead 
bade  us  a  hearty  welcome.  At  first  one  hardly 
knew  whether  to  feel  annoyed  that  we  had 
come  so  far  to  no  purpose  or  to  be  glad  that 
there  was,  as  it  turned  out,  little  to  be  done 
but  leave  Uncle  'Lige's  constitution,  unhandi- 
capped  by  past  indulgences  common  to  civili- 
zation, to  work  out  its  own  salvation. 

He  evidently  guessed  what  had  been  passing 
in  my  mind,  and  was  fretting  over  it.  For  he 
suddenly  interrupted  my  meditations  by  call- 
ing out:  "I  was  on  a  dead  lee  shore,  and  no  mis- 
take, when  I  sent  the  boys  for  youse,  Doctor. 
But  I  suppose  I  clawed  off  somehow.  I  shall 
weather  her  this  time,  shan't  I,  Doctor?'1 

132 


Uncle  'Lige's  Story 

Fortunately  I  found  no  difficulty  in  assuring 
him  that  I  was  glad  I  had  come;  for  my  exami- 
nation of  him  had  somewhat  reconciled  me  to 
having  made  the  effort.  It  had,  indeed,  been 
a  close  call,  and  to  avoid  the  aftermath  there 
were  quite  a  few  things  which  could  be  done. 
My  good  humor  was  augmented,  moreover, 
by  the  pleasurable  aroma  which  was  rising  up 
through  the  floor,  suggesting  that  preparations 
were  in  progress  to  satisfy  a  hunger  which  was 
honestly  come  by. 

There  was  only  one  other  house  in  Wild 
Bight;  there  is  only  room  in  its  small  and 
almost  unprotected  cleft  in  the  cliffs  for  a 
couple  of  boats  to  find  anchor.  So  Uncle  'Lige 
and  his  five  lads  practically  had  the  place  to 
themselves.  The  deep  water  at  the  foot  of  the 
perpendicular  cliffs  brought  the  fish  almost  to 
their  door,  and  as  a  result  they  always  did  well. 
Even  now  they  had  nearly  ten  tons  of  codfish 
under  salt  in  their  stages,  left  over  and  above 
all  that  they  had  dried  and  sold  before  win- 
ter overtook  them ;  besides  all  the  many  tierce 
of  spring  salmon,  which  last  year  had  com- 
manded "a  lusty  price."  So  all  the  perquisites 
of  comfort  were  easily  within  his  reach,  and  his 

133 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

clean,  bright  little  home  showed  how  well  what 
some  call  "a  mere  fisherman"  knows  how  to 
use  such  returns  for  his  labor  as  fate  allows 
him. 

When  the  time  arrived  to  bid  my  hospitable 
old  friend  farewell,  I  told  him  to  run  no  more 
such  risks,  and  remarked  that,  in  spite  even 
of  his  adventurous  life,  this  must  surely  have 
been  his  closest  call  to  leave  us. 

"No,  no,  Doctor,"  he  answered.  "Some 
years  agone  I  had  liked  to  have  saved  you  any 
trouble  wi'  me." 

"How  was  that,  Uncle  'Lige?" 

"Well,  we  lived  out  on  the  Seal  Islands  in 
them  days.  Them's  a  dozen  miles  or  so  out  to 
sea,  as  you  knows,  and  all  winter  long  there  be 
no  chance  to  get  any  word  from  t'  land.  When 
the  sea  freezes  over,  come  November,  you  may 
say  they  be's  cut  off  altogether  till  June. 
There  was  only  five  families  there  them  days, 
but  with  the  islands  bein'  out  among  the  seal- 
patches,  us  did  well  with  the  young  fat  and 
skins  us  got  in  spring. 

"Skipper  Jim  went  South  with  his  voyage 
that  fall  for  t'  first  time,  and  us  had  a  better 
chance  to  get  a  fair  price,  and  he  brought  us 

134 


Uncle  'Lige's  Story 

our  winter's  diet  for  cash.  'T  was  a  wonderful 
sight  cheaper  in  them  days." 

I  could  see  that  the  old  man  was  in  for  a 
yarn,  so  I  sat  down  on  the  foot  of  his  bed  to 
hear  it  out. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "that  winter  Skipper 
Jim  brought  back  a  young  maid,  about  seven- 
teen years,  from  a  place  somewhere  in  Shark's 
Bay,  called  Peace  Haven.  Seems  her  father 
had  done  bad  wi'  t'  fish,  and  there  were  a  big 
crowd  of  them  to  feed  home,  and  she  were  t' 
eldest  maid,  so  she  had  to  go  away  first  to  help 
out.  Uncle  Jim  took  her  for  nurse-girl — as  he'd 
lost  his  own  missus  —  and  a  good  little  nurse- 
maid she  were.   Us  all  called  her  Mamie. 

"Skipper  Jim's  was  a  good  house,  and  I 
won't  say  they  was  n't  kind  to  her.  At  first  she 
were  happy  as  a  lark,  singin'  all  about,  but 
come  New  Year,  somehow,  she  started  frettin'. 
She  got  that  quiet  and  silent  you  would  never 
'a'  know'd  she  was  worritin'.  Skipper  Jim,  he 
give  her  a  good  name  for  workin',  but  she  never 
went  nowhere  after  Old  Christmas  Day,  'cept 
now  and  again  she'd  come  over  and  sit,  with- 
out sayin'  ne'er  a  word,  on  that  very  old  settle 
over  there,  while  them  young  men,  who  was 

135 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

just  boys  them  days,  played  around.  My 
missus  used  to  give  her  a  word  o'  cheer  now  and 
again,  and  try  and  do  little  things  for  her  to 
hearten  her  up  a  bit. 

"But  it  did  n't  seem  to  do  no  good.  She  had 
no  bodily  sickness  far  as  we  knew,  but  she  just 
pined  away  that  quick  that  by  St.  Patrick's 
Day,  it  was  most  certain  she  would  n't  live  to 
see  open  water.  We  was  always  minded  that 
there  was  more  in  it  than  us  could  see  —  for 
whenever  she  did  say  a  word,  it  always  was 
that  us  was  to  be  sure  to  send  her  back  to 
Peace  Haven.  No  one  never  got  t'  secret  from 
her,  Doctor,  but  I  learned  years  after  it  was  as 
us  had  feared.  One  of  our  harbor  lads  had  first 
won  her  heart  and  then  betrayed  her  —  and 
then  left  her  for  another  girl.  No,  Doctor,  I 
never  told  no  one  who  't  was,  and  I  think  I 
never  will  now. 

"It  were  a  lovely  spring  t'  year,  and  afore  t' 
ice  opened  the  poor  maid  passed  away.  I  minds 
well  she  sent  for  the  missus  to  go  over,  and  the 
last  words  she  said  were  the  same  ones,  'You 
'11  promise  to  send  me  back  to  father's?'  It 
so  happened  it  were  more  than  a  month  at 
least  afore  us  could  launch,  so  us  laid  her  into 

136 


Uncle  'Lige's  Story 

two  coffins  filled  with  good  sawdust.  It  seemed 
as  if  t'  ice  would  never  go  t'  year,  and  us  that 
anxious  to  go  gettin'  longers  and  lumber  for  t* 
fishery.  But  the  missus  had  given  her  word 
for  it,  so  at  t'  last  moment,  as  us  were  starting 
in  for  t'  mainland,  I  'lowed  us  'd  take  the  maid 
along  with  us  for  some  schooner  to  pick  her  up 
and  take  her  South  later. 

"It  were  only  a  fishing-jack,  t'  old  Day- 
spring,  us  had,  and  the  double  coffin  filled  her 
up  amidships  so  you  could  n't  get  forward  and 
back.  It  were  blowin'  a  nice  breeze  when  us 
left,  but  us  had  t'  sheets  belayed,  and  I  was  for- 
ward myself  on  the  cuddy.  We  were  bowling 
along,  I  suppose  a  good  eight  knots,  and  I  had 
almost  dozed  off  myself,  when  without  a  sign 
o'  warning  the  tail  end  of  a  cyclone  or  some 
kind  of  a  heavy  squall  struck  us,  and  she  were 
upside  down  and  us  in  the  water  in  a  moment. 
Ne  'er  a  one  of  us  could  swim,  and  when  I  came 
up  I  grabbed  hold  o'  the  first  thing  I  could  and 
found  it  were  t'  coffin.  I  slid  her  along  under 
me,  and  managed  at  last  to  lie  out  on  her.  She 
kept  me  well  afloat  that  way.  Archie  Jarvis  — 
he  were  a  married  man  —  had  been  steerin' 
when  she  went  over,  and  was  clingin'  to  the 

137 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

stern  end  of  the  keel,  half  on  the  boat's  bottom. 
Will  Hawkins,  he  was  holdin'  on  the  foremast, 
which  had  just  got  loose,  and  the  waves  were 
goin'  over  he  every  now  and  again.  I  was  to 
windward  o'  the  boat,  but  gradually  drivin' 
nearer  on  the  wind  and  sea.  While  I  had  all  I 
could  do  to  hold  on,  I  could  see  that  the  Day- 
spring  was  settlin'  by  the  stern,  and  Arch  was 
crawlin'  forward  to  keep  his  head  above  water. 
It  was  bitter  cold,  for  there  were  still  lots  of  ice 
about,  and  as  no  vessel  was  in  sight  and  we 
some  eight  miles  off  t'  land,  there  seemed  little 
enough  hope  of  our  bein'  picked  up.  When  at 
last  the  coffin  bumped  into  the  old  Dayspring, 
I  found  she  were  standin'  straight  up  on  her 
end.  Her  little  bowsprit  was  stickin'  right  out 
o'  water,  and  she  only  kept  afloat  by  the  air  in 
her  fore  cuddy. 

"As  I  caught  hold  of  the  bowsprit,  I  called  to 
Arch  to  see  if  he  were  all  right.  But  I  could  see 
that  we  must  get  Will  in  towards  the  bow,  or 
he  'd  be  drowned  with  the  water  goin'  over  him. 
I  got  un  at  last,  but  odd  enough  he  did  n't  seem 
to  want  to  be  saved.  I  kept  sayin',  'Keep  up 
heart,  Will,  boy.  T'  Lord  can  save  we  if  He 
likes.'   But  all  he  would  say  was,  'Good-bye, 

138 


Uncle  'Lige's  Story 

'Lige,  I'm  goin',  I  knows.  I  know'd  it  when  we 
started.'  lie  did  n't  seem  even  to  shut  his 
mouth  as  the  combers  came  along  over  us,  and 
though  we  had  him  held  on  for  I  reckon  three 
or  four  hours,  he  were  stark  dead  long  before 
that,  and  then  he  got  washed  out  of  our  hands 
at  last  and  sank  like  a  stone. 

"The  Dayspring  neither  turned  over  nor 
sunk  down  any  more.  Youse  see  t'  mainmast 
and  sail  were  still  standin',  and  served  her  for 
a  sea-anchor.  Us  could  keep  only  just  our 
heads  and  shoulders  out  o'  water.  Twice  a  lop 
hit  the  coffin  I  was  lyin'  on,  and  slung  me  off  it, 
but  I  managed  to  climb  back  on  her  again, 
though,  bein'  light,  she  drove  quite  fast  to 
leeward,  while  the  poor  Dayspring  scarcely 
moved. 

"I  was  minded  several  times  to  bide  on  the 
coffin  and  let  her  go.  But  t'  wind  were  along 
shore,  and  it  just  meant  being  drowned  alone, 
while,  myself,  I  had  all  the  time  a  mistrust  we 
would  be  saved.  I  don't  know  why  it  were: 
whether  it  was  'cos  I  knew  t'  missus  and  my 
lads  needed  me,  or  whether  it  was  'cos  us  were 
tryin'  to  do  what  t'  maid  what  caused  all  the 
trouble  had  asked.    Anyhow,  I  kept  tellin' 

139 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

Arch  to  keep  his  courage  up,  as  I  'lowed  help 
was  comin'.  It  seemed  a  strange  thing  to  me, 
Doctor,"  he  broke  off,  "when  they  told  me 
after  on  the  Island  that  Will  had  said  just 
before  us  left  that  he  know'd  he  'd  never  come 
back  no  more  alive." 

"Faith  does  a  lot  of  things  we  don't  count 
on,"  I  answered,  thinking  of  many  of  my  past 
patients,  whose  marvelous  faith  in  the  almost 
magical  power  of  medicines  had  been  no  small 
factor  in  winning  them  back  to  health,  and  life 
itself. 

"Well,  seein'  Will  was  gone,  Doctor,  I  just 
got  hold  o'  the  mainsprit,  which  was  still 
tangled  with  the  sail,  and  somehow  got  my 
neck  scarf  fast  to  it,  and  stood  her  up  along- 
side the  bowsprit.  It  must  have  been  six 
hours  since  we  capsized,  for  the  sun  was  passed 
high.  I 

"All  of  a  sudden  I  heard  a  shout,  and  there, 
sure  enough,  was  Charlie  Sampson's  bully, 
luffin'  to  leeward  of  us.  To  tell  the  truth, 
Doctor,  I  was  nigh  gone  myself  when  they 
lugged  me  out  of  t'  water,  but  it  were  an  hour 
or  more  afore  we  were  sure  there  were  any  life 
left  in  Arch.  Charlie  and  his  lads  had  been  in 

140 


Uncle  'Lige's  Story 

to  the  mainland  rindin',  and  were  beatin'  out 
to  the  Islands.  They  had  just  got  round  t' 
heads,  and  in  five  minutes  more  would  have 
shot  into  t'  harbor,  when  a  squall  off  the  cliff 
took  both  their  sails  away,  and  they  had 
nothin'  to  do  but  put  her  before  t'  wind  for  the 
mainland,  as  there  were  no  chance  of  reachin' 
to  windward  with  the  oars. 

"The  very  moment  they  lifted  me  off  the 
Dayspring,  she  rose  right  up,  the  air  all  rushed 
out  of  the  cuddy,  and  with  a  dive  she  went 
straight  to  the  bottom.  Seems  it  was  only  our 
weight  had  kept  her  steady.  The  coffin  had 
gone  long  before,  drifting  to  the  south'ard  with 
the  wind  and  current. 

"Many  a  day  after  that  we  talked  of  the 
little  maid,  and  how  sorry  we  was  we  could  n't 
have  done  for  her  what  we  promised,  and  what 
she'd  set  her  heart  on  so  much.  But  it  were 
nigh  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  straight  over 
the  open  sea  to  Peace  Haven,  and  us  had  done 
our  best,  and  that  were  all  there  could  be  to  it. 
If  wishin'  could  have  done  it,  she'd  'a'  surely 
gone  there  by  herself,  and  I  think  us  wished  it 
nearly  as  much  as  she. 

:And  then,  Doctor,  there  came  the  wonder- 

141 


a 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

ful  part  of  all  the  trouble.  Us  had  gone  over  to 
the  mainland  to  set  our  cod  nets  on  the  back 
cove  of  Black  Duck  Bay  about  a  month  later, 
when  a  Shark's  Bay  schooner  came  in  and 
anchored  right  off  our  berth.  She  threw  out  her 
boat  and  her  lads  came  ashore  to  cut  a  bit  o' 
firewood.  Esau  here  and  'Lige  went  out  to 
tliein  to  get  the  news,  and  by'meby,  when  they 
gets  to  varum',  one  of  the  schooner  boys  up  and 
says:  'A  queer  thing  happened  to  we,  no  doubt, 
this  trip.  Us  had  n't  left  home  an  hour,  and 
were  just  three  miles  outside  t'  heads,  when  V 
watch  saw  somethin'  black  bobbin'  up  and 
down.  It  looked  all  the  more  black  as  there 
were  a  lol  of  slob  about.  Well,  Bill  here,  he 
called  t'  skipper,  and  he  sent  un  aloft  to  make 
it  out  if  he  could.  He  could  n't  make  nothin' 
of  it,  save  it  were  a  long  black  box,  so  the  old 
man  put  t'  helm  down  to  go  round  and  make  it 
out.  Sure  enough,  it  were  a  black  box.  Mighty 
like  a  coffin  it  seemed  to  we,  and  us  scarcely 
know'd  what  to  make  of  it.  But  there,  you 
never  can  tell  what  some  folks  hides  things  in, 
so  the  skipper  hove  the  schooner  in  the  wind 
alongside,  while  us  hoisted  t'  box  aboard.  She 
was  that  like  a  coffin,  us  did  n't  at  first  like  to 

142 


Uncle  'Lige's  Story 

open  her.  But  us  were  that  curious  to  know 
what  was  in  her  that  at  last  us  got  leave  from 
t'  skipper  to  start  t'  cover  —  and  then,  sure 
enough,  inside  were  another  strong  box.  That 
made  us  think  it  was  all  the  more  as  if  queer 
doin's  had  been  going  on.  So  it  were  n't  long 
before  us  had  the  rest  of  the  screws  took  out  — 
and  it  was  a  coffin  all  right,  and  there  were 
nought  but  a  little  maid  inside.  Then  one  of 
our  lads,  he  gave  a  kind  of  shout,  and  said  he 
know'd  for  sure  who  it  was.  She  were  Mamie 
Sparks  from  Peace  Haven,  or  he  was  n't  in  his 
right  senses. 

"'When  the  skipper  heard  that  lie  didn't 
know  what  to  do,  for  us  was  racing  North  to 
get  a  good  fishing-berth,  and  every  hour  meant 
money  to  all  of  us.  But  Joe,  he  were  that  sure 
he  know'd  t'  maid  that  at  last  the  skipper 
promised  to  run  for  Peace  Haven,  and  as  us 
had  t'  wind  free,  it  were  n't  long  afore  us  had 
t'  hook  down  in  t'  harbor. 

"'It  did  n't  take  no  time  to' get  to  Skipper 
Ned's  house,  but  all  he  know'd  was  that  his 
maid  had  gone  North  in  t'  fall,  and  he  were  as 
sure's  certain  it  could  n't  be  her.  But  by'meby 
he  came  off  aboard,  and  the  way  he  carried  on 

143 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

when  he  found  it  were  really  Mamie  were  eruel 
enough.1 

'It  weren't  for  some  weeks  after,"  Uncle 
'Lige  went  on,  "that  the  poor  fellow  learned 
how  it  all  happened,  and  then  he  did  n't  carry 
on  so  about  it,  for  though  it  did  look  like  had 
(loin's,  it  were  much  better  when  he  knew  the 
whole  truth. 

"So  that  were  the  Dearest  call,  Doctor,  I  ever 
had,  and  tlic  Dearest  I  hopes  to  have,  till  I 
hears  t'  last  call.  Don't  you  think.  Doctor, 
there's  more  in  wishing  than  what  us  knows  of? 
You  sees  the  maid  got  home  at  last. " 


WHITE  FOX 

Uncle  Ike  Wilson  was  a  born  rover.  In  his 
early  days  he  ran  away  from  his  father's  farm 
in  England,  being  possessed  by  that  inborn 
desire  of  so  many  English  lads  to  go  to  sea.  It 
was  the  same  spirit  whieh  led  Captain  Cook  to 
leave  a  comfortable  position  in  a  grocer's  busi- 
ness for  the  fo'c's'le  of  a  collier  schooner  at 
Whitby,  and  even  in  the  days  of  press-gangs 
and  continual  war,  to  set  out  on  the  adven- 
turous life  which  lias  made  him  famous  for 
all  ages.  When  Major  George  Cartwright,  the 
great  hunter  and  trapper  of  Labrador,  and  also 
its  historian,  was  retired  from  the  army  as  be- 
ing too  old  for  service,  he  wrote:  "London  is  no 
place  for  a  man  like  me.  So,  hearing  that  bears 
and  deer  were  plentiful  in  Newfoundland,  I 
,  felt  so  strong  an  inclination  to  go  there  that 
I  accompanied  my  brother  on  his  next  voy- 
age to  that  country."  There  he  fell  in  with 
the  Indians  and  Eskimo,  and  nothing  would 
satisfv  him  but  to  remain  in  that  then  wild 
land,  for  which  he  always  afterwards  professed 
so  warm  a  love.  Such  a  spirit,  the  desire  to  get 

145 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

out  of  the  ordinary  nil  of  life,  the  contempt  for 
prosaic  routine  even  though  it  broughl  ease  and 
plenty,  and  the  determination  to  "do  Bome- 
t  aing,"  carried  Uncle  Ike.  over  sixty  yean  b 
first  as  genera]  scrub  on  a  small,  square-ri  ged 
"windjammer/'  and  later  almost  all  over  the 
world.  At  length,  as  many  another  has  done 
before  him,  he  grew  tired  of  tin*  fo'c's'le,  l>ut 
nowhere  did  he  find  a  place  where  it  seemed 
possible  t<>  obtain  a  position  on  the'land  with 
sufficient  freedom  to  Buit  him. 

Finally,  having  -;t i  1< m  1  from  Spain  with  a 
cargo  of  salt  for  Labrador,  whence  his  captain 
intended  to  bring  fish  for  the  West  Indies,  he 
thought  he  had  found  the  poor  man's  parad 
Here  was  all  the  land  he  wanted,  free  t<>  all 

COmen.     Here  were  fish  in  the  --a  and  river-, 

birds  and  bear  and  deer  for  food  and  fur-;    no 

taxes  to  pay,  iP'  al  inequalities  to  remind 
him  of  bis  humble  origin.  Here  men  seemed 
free  and  equal,  Bimple-minded,  hospitable, 
while  their  livelihood  depended  <>nly  on  their 
own  resourcefulness,  and  not  on  the  whims  and 

Oscillations  of   the   labor   market.     So   it    hap- 
pened that  when  the  time  came  for  the  ship  to 
I,  (Jncle  Ike  was  nowhere  to  he  found,  as  he 

148 


White  Fox 

had  taken  care  to  remove  himself  far  into  the 
forest,  where  searching  for  him  would  be  like 
hunt  ing  a  needle  in  a  haystack. 

I  do  not  propose  to  follow  his  fortunes  here. 

In  due  time  he  married,  though  somewhal  late 
in  life,  and  had  one  son,  In  order  to  have 
'■plenty  of  room,"  such  as  he  needed  for  his 

trapping,  he  had  made  his  winter  home  far  up 

beyond  the  bead  of  one  of  the  many  lone  inlets 
of  the  Coast;  and  as  he  was  exceedingly  clever 

at   all  kinds  of  woodcraft   ami  animal  lore,  lie 

had  done  remarkably  well.  His  house,  isolated 
though  it  was,  had  become  proverbial  for  its 
generous  hospitality.   The  numerous  komatik 

teams  which  "cruise"  the  CoasI  in  winter  — 
dogs  being  our  only  power  for  traction  — never 
failed  to  make  a  little  extra  detour,  sure  of  a 
td  meal  ami  a  warm  corner  under  Uncle 
Ike's  hospitable  roof. 

It  is  not  remarkable,  therefore,  as  his  wife 
was  the  daughter  of  anold  settler  on  theCoa>t, 
that  their  son  Jim  >hould  possess  more  than 
the  usual  quota  of  those  natural  abilities  that 
go  to  make  a  valuable  scout,  and  which  we, 
brought  up  in  civilization,  have  so  often  to 
acquire  by  painful  and  tedious  work. 

147 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

At  the  time  of  this  story,  Jim  w;i>  Btill  only 
fourteen  years  old.  His  hardy  physical  life 
ha<l  toughened  his  muscles,  ;m<l  already  inured 
him  to  endure  circumstances  under  which  b 
"softy"  would  be  about  a>  useful  as  a  piece  of 
blotting-paper.  Prom  bis  sailor  father  he  had 
learned  those  practical  handicrafts  which  help 
out  so  invaluably  in  a  tight  corner.  It  was  do 
trouble  to  him  to  hit  the  same  spot  twice  with 
hi>  axe,  or  tie  a  knot  that  would  neither  come 
loos--  nor  jam. 

It  was  the  very  middle  of  winter.    The  snow 

lay  deep  mi  the  ground,  and  everything,  every- 
where, except  the  t<>p>  of  the  trees,  was  buried 
out  of  Bight.  On  the  barrens,  wind-swept  and 

hard-packed,    the    [east    mark   <>n    the   surface 

might  l»e  visible  for  days;  hut  in  the  woods  the 
drift  only  left  Light  snow  many  feet  deep,  where 
any  mark,  or  even  an  object,  became  buried  in 

a   few   minute^.     On   the   l<>mr   lakes   the  same 

thing  happens.    Many  times  I  have  myself 

crossed  them  on  a  visit  to  a  pat  ient .  and  labori- 
ously tramped  ahead  of  the  do^s  through  the 
deep  drift  on  my  snowshoes,  so  as  to  make 
a  path  for  them,  which  at  least  would  not  be 
entirely  obliterated;  saying  to  myself  all  the 

143 


White  Fox 

while,  "We  will  anyhow  have  a  good  road 
back."  Yet,  on  returning,  not  a  vestige  of  the 
trail  could  be  discerned  and  the  same  old 
process  must  be  undertaken  all  over  again. 

(hi  the  days  between  his  long  rounds  over 
his  fur-path,  it  was  Uncle  Ike's  custom  to  go 

into  the  woods  and  "spell"  out  such  firewood 
as  was  necessary  to  keep  the  stove  going  for 
his  old  wife.  < 

This  incident  occurred  on  just  one  of  these 

Occasions.  The  old  man  had  started  at  the  first 

streak  of  daw  n,  as  was  hi-  invariable  habit,  and 
had  taken  with  him  his  team  of  six  as  stout 
dogs  as  ever  helped  to  haul  a  sledge  over  ice. 
It  was  a  glorious  morning,  and  Jim  had  been 

allowed  to  go  oil'  on  his  little  fur-round  of 
some  half-dozen  traps  —  all  his  own.  The 
price  of  whatever  pelts  he  got  was  placed  in  his 
special  stocking,  that  lie  might  learn  the  value 
of  things  when  he  came  to  have  a  rifle  and 
hunting-kit  of  his  own. 

Sundown  is  early  in  a  Labrador  winter,  and 
Jim  did  not  get  home  till  so  late  that,  with  all 
his  knowledge  of  the  country,  he  was  glad 
enough  to  see  the  twinkle  of  the  cottage  light 
through  the  darkness,  as  he  sturdily  trudged 

149 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

along  the  last  mile  homeward.  For  it  had 
"turned  nasty,"  the  wind  had  shifted  to  the 

east,  and  it  was  snowing  hard,  which  added 

greatly  to  the  darkness  of  the  evening.  But 
that  night  Jim  aoticed  neither  weariness  nor 
difficulty,  aor  did  he  feel  the  extra  weight  of 
the  burden  be  was  carrying  <»n  his  hack.  Two 
days  previously  he  had  found  a  queer,  gouged- 
looking  mark  on  the  snow  Dear  the  "  cat  tie,"  or 
running  water,  on  the  river  that  crossed  his 
fur-path,  and  it  was  not  Decessary  for  him  to 
look  twice  to  sec  that  it  was  the  rub  of  a  big 
otter.  To-day  success  bad  crowned  his  skill, 
and  he  was  dragging  home  on  his  back  the  first 

otter  he  had  ever  caught  all  by  himself.  What 
a  surprise  it  would  he  for  mother  and  father! 
What  a  good  t  [me  would  he  his  by  the  crackling 
fire,  as  the  storm  raged  outside  and  he  sat 
toasting  his  legs  and  telling  of  his  adventures! 
A-  he  expected,  a  truly  rapturous  greeting 
awaited  him,  when  at  length  he  entered  the 
door,  additionally  demons!  rative,  he  thought  at 
first,  because  of  his  large  otter.  Soon  he  found, 
however,  it  was  because  mother  had  been  anx- 
ious, as  neither  of  'her  men"  had  returned, 
and  now  she  had  one  wanderer  anyhow. 

150 


White  Fox 

Aunt  Rachel  was  no  longer  a  strong  woman 
physically.  Of  late  a  weakness,  strange  alto- 
gether to  her  younger  days,  had  forced  her  un- 
willingly to  recognize  that  only  by  much  rest- 
ing between  "spells"  could  she  keep  pace  even 
with  the  few  domestic  duties  which  her  small 
house  made  necessary. 

"Get  your  things,  Jim,  and  we'll  have  tea 
on  the  table  by  the  time  dad  comes.  You  can 
cut  up  a  bit  more  wood,  and  we  will  have  an 
extra  large  fire  to-night.  Dad '11  be  cold  after 
his  long  day's  work." 

"Right  you  are,  mother,"  said  the  tired  Jim, 
forgetting  his  aching  bones  in  the  excitement 
of  the  occasion.  He  was  outside  in  a  minute, 
axe  in  hand,  looking  for  another  log  or  two. 

Xow  another  hour  had  passed  by.  Still  no 
sign  of  Uncle  Ike.  Everything  stood  ready,  and 
the  kettle  was  just  puffing  out  greetings  from 
the  hob. 

"Better  get  tea,  Jim.  Dad  may  be  kept  by 
something.  But  he's  always  home  before  now." 

The  wind  was  howling  outside,  and  Aunt 
Rachel's  face  was  paler  than  usual  in  spite  of 
the  firelight.  Something  must  be  wrong  with 
Ike.    The  house  was  miles  away  from  any 

151 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

neighbor,  and  it  was  utterly  impossible  on  a 
night  like  this  to  seek  help  that  way.  Yet  if 
anything  had  happened  to  her  husband,  he 
would  certainly  be  dead  before  daybreak. 

"  What  \s  that,  Jim?"  she  suddenly  cried  out. 
"Surely  that's  a  dog  outside."  Jim,  whose 
ears  had  imt  been  SO  spry  jlisl  for  the  moment , 
owing  to  hi-  being  in  the  midsl  of  his  long- 
delayed  supper,  listened  a  second.  "That's 
While  Fox's  whine,  mother.  I'd  know  it  any- 
where." And,  jumping  up,  he  ran  to  the  door, 
as  he  supposed,  to  welcome  his  father.  Hut  no 
father  answered  his  call  from  the  darkness,  only 
a  great  snow-covered  furry  animal  that  leaped 
up  and  kissed  his  face.  "Down,  Fox,  down. 
Where'sdad?"  But  for  answer  all  he  got  was  a 
whine,  and  what  he  took  to  be  an  invitation  to 
follow  her.  White  Fox  being  the  trusted  leader 
of  their  team  for  three  year-  now. 

"Mother,  it's  White  Fox  all  right.  She's  got 
no  harness  on.  I'll  go  and  sec  if  the  others  are 
back  too." 

A  moment  later,  and  Jim  was  in  from  the 
dog  pen.  "They're  all  home  but  one,  mother. 
There's  Jess  and  Snowball  and  Spry  and 
"Watch,  all  of  them  with  their  harnesses  on, 

U,2 


White  Fox 

and  their  traces  chewed  through.  Father  must 
be  in  the  woods  somewhere.  But  where 's 
Curly,  and  how  did  they  come  to  leave  her 
behind?" 

The  anxiety  was  becoming  almost  too  much 
for  the  poor  woman  to  bear.  Xo  help  could  be 
got  from  outside,  and  she  could  n't  travel  fifty 
yards  in  that  snow  herself,  with  the  ther- 
mometer at  twenty  below  zero.  Jim  was  tired 
and  young,  ever  so  young  to  go  out  into  the 
dark  and  storm,  and  be  of  any  use.  She  had 
him  safe,  anyhow.  Surely  it  would  only  make 
matters  worse  to  send  him  out  again. 

Jim  had  fed  the  dogs,  and  by  all  the  laws  of 
dogdom  they  should  now  be  curled  up  and  fast 
asleep  in  their  cozy  little  house.  But  he  had 
hardly  closed  the  door  when  a  scratching  and 
the  familiar  whine  outside  said  plainly  that 
White  Fox  was  not  satisfied,  and  wanted  some- 
thing which  they  had  failed  to  give  her. 

Again  Jim  went  to  the  doorway.  The  bitter 
blast  and  snow  drove  into  the  porch  and 
through  it  into  the  house.  But  the  great  woolly 
figure  of  the  dog  showed  in  the  light  which 
streamed  from  the  cottage.  As  Jim  looked  into 
the  eyes  of  almost  his  only  real  chum,  he  could 

153 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

plainly  understand  her  meaning,  reading  the 
message  as  well  as  if  it  were  written. 

"She  wants  me  to  go  out  with  her,  mother," 

he  called  from  the  porch.    "What  shall  I  do? 
I'm  almost  sure  she  has  left  father  somewhere, 
and  wants  me  to  go  and  help  her  fetch  him 
mine. 

"Shut  the  door  and  come  in,  Jim.  I  don't 
think  I  dare  let  yon  go.  You  and  your  father 
are  all  I  have  on  earth,  and  if  yon  got  lost,  too, 

I  should  never  live  through  it." 

There  was  a  momentary  silence,  as  the  boy, 
with  thoughtfulness  beyond  his  years,  stood 
listening. 

Then  once  again  came  the  familiar  whine, 
ringing  through  the  darkness  of  the  night. 
White  Fox  had  not  given  up  her  attempt  to 
convey  her  me  because  she  had  met  with 

two  rebuffs.  She  knew  well  enough  that  the 
team  would  follow  her  if  only  she  could  per- 
suade Jim  to  answer  her  call. 

Still  absolute  silence  reigned  in  the  cottage. 
Neither  mother  nor  son  spoke.  Then  again 
came  the  long,  piteous  wail  of  the  dog,  and  it 
seemed  to  the  alert  ears  of  the  woman  that  now 
there  was  a  tinge  of  disappointment  in  it. 

154 


White  Fox 

It  was  she  who  broke  the  silence.  "You 
must  go,  Jim.  There  is  no  help  for  it.  That  call 
would  haunt  me  to  my  dying  day  if  I  left 
undone  anything  that  could  be  done.  God 
knows  best,  and  it  is  He  surely,  and  not  White 
Fox  who  is  calling.  Get  on  your  things,  boy. 
Take  your  father's  lantern,  and  God  help  you. 
I  shan't  have  long  to  wait  anyhow,  without 
you  two,  if  you  never  come  back  again." 

Jim  was  already  half  into  his  little  oilskin 
suit,  his  storm-cap,  skin  mitts,  and  moccasins, 
while  his  mother  packed  up  a  few  little  things 
which  might  be  necessary  in  case  an  accident 
had  happened.  Indeed,  he  was  already  moving 
to  the  door  when  she  called  him  hack  again. 
"Jim,"  she  said,  "kiss  me  once  more.  It  may 
be  the  last  time  I'll  ever  see  you  alive.  And 
then  we'll  just  kneel  down  and  ask  God,  who 
loves  yon  better  than  I  can,  to  be  with  you  to- 
night and  bring  you  safe  back  with  father." 
It  was  no  set  prayer  that  welled  up  from  the 
soul  of  the  poor  woman;  whether,  indeed,  it 
even  took  the  form  of  words  she  has  long  since 
forgotten.  All  she  does  know  is  that  it  was  the 
first  time  she  had  ever  prayed  "in  public."  All 
that  Jim  remembers  is  that  for  some  minutes 

155 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

he  of  all  people  actually  cried,  though  lie  did  n't 
exactly  know  why. 

At  las!  the  door  had  closed  behind  him,  and, 
marvel  of  marvels,  Aunt  Rachel,  weary  and 
exhausted,  fell  asleep  in  her  chair,  and  in  the 
( rod-given  rest  was  a  hie  to  economize  her  store 
of  strength  to  meet  the  ordeal  she  had  yet  to  go 
through. 

Jim  meanwhile  had  found  a  spare"  harness, 
and  put  it  on  Wli i t <^*  Fox,  tying  the  trace 
around  his  waist.  Then  he  called  out  the  rest  of 
the  team,  tying  their  traces  together  and  hitch- 
ing them  on  his  arm.  Since  lie  had  no  idea  of 
where  he  was  going,  there  was  only  one  thing 
he  could  do,  and  thai  was  to  follow  the  dog.  So, 
closing  his  eyes,  as  seeing  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  they  were  safer  anyhow  that  way 
from  twigs  and  branches  after  they  got  among 
the  woods,  he  ploughed  his  way  as  rapidly  as  he 
could,  following  all  the  time  the  tugging  of 
White  Fox's  trace  by  keeping  his  right  hand  on 
the  line. 

Fortunately  for  all  concerned,  the  spot  of 
woods  which  Uncle  Ike  had  selected  for  his 
winter's  cutting  was  less  than  two  miles  from 
the  house,  and  of  that  one  mile  was  over  a 

156 


White  Fox 

frozen  lake,  where,  although  the  full  blast  of 
the  storm  made  the  cold  more  bitter  and  harder 
to  stem,  yet  the  drift  was  packed  or  altogether 
cleared  away  by  the  violence  of  the  wind. 
Through  the  drogues  of  woods  in  the  narrow 
gulches  the  young  snow  was  so  soft  that  the 
boy  had  almost  to  swim,  and  but  for  the  tug, 
tug,  of  White  Fox's  trace  he  could  never  for  an 
instant  have  kept  his  direction,  or  even  made 
progress.  But  White  Fox  scaled  nearly  a  hun- 
dred pounds,  and  stood  twenty-seven  inches  to 
the  shoulder,  and  was  actually  heavier  than 
the  boy  himself;  while  every  ounce  of  her  was 
made  up  of  bone  and  iron  muscles. 

One  other  element  told  strongly  in  the  boy's 
favor  and  enabled  him  to  accomplish  what 
must  otherwise  have  been  an  almost  impossi- 
ble task.  It  never  entered  his  head  that  the  dog 
could  be  mistaken.  He  trusted  White  Fox  as 
implicitly  as  he  would  his  mother.  Of  course 
his  chum  knew  better  than  any  one  else  on 
earth  what  to  do,  and  if  he  could  only  last  out 
and  do  his  part,  he  knew  well  it  was  a  mere 
piece  of  child's  play  to  the  dog. 

Once  and  again,  as  he  floundered  through  a 
deeper  drift  than  usual,  he  became  completely 

157 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

stalled,  and  it  seemed  impossible  ever  to  ex- 
tricate himself.   I  [e  was  nearly  played  out,  and 

the  cold  and  dark  made  the  temptation  to  rc-t 
jusl  for  a  minute  almost  irresistible.  The  ex- 
citement of  the  first  hour  had  enabled  him  to 
call  into  play  at  once  all  his  reserve  strength, 

hut  now  he  felt  he  musl  sleep — only  a  moment , 

of  course,  hut  jusl  a  minute's  nap.    In  those 

deep   drifts,  not    even    White   Fox   could  have 

hauled  so  heavy  a  Load.  All  she  could  do  was 
to  employ  her  powers  of  suggestion.  She  re- 
turned to  her  lagging  master,  and  kissed  his 

face,  incidentally  running  to  and  fro  and  hard- 
ening a  path  for  him  on  which  he  could  crawl 
out  of  the  bog  of  snow. 

Once  more  they  ploughed  along  on  their 
way.  Scarcely  a  sound  was  audible;  just  the 
moaning  of  the  storm,  and  now  and  again  a 
rare  whimper  or  snarl  from  one  of  the  dogs  as 
one  of  the  others  got  in  his  road.  Indeed,  the 
silence  and  darkness  were  almost  visible.  Sud- 
denly, quite  close  at  hand,  a  dog's  call  re- 
sounded from  the  bush,  and  White  Fox  leaped 
in  the  direction  with  such  violence  as  to  fling 
the  hoy  clean  off  his  feet,  rolling  him  over  once 
more  in  the  deep  snow. 

1j8 


White  Fox 

But  that  he  no  longer  noticed:  it  was  Curly 's 
sharp  bark.  Picking  himself  up,  and  bracing 
himself  for  the  effort,  Jim  shouted  with  all  his 
might.  "Father!  Father!  Father!"  But  the 
only  answer  was  a  howl  in  unison  from  all  the 
dogs,  and  the  soughing  of  the  storm  through 
the  firs  and  spruces  of  the  grove  they  had  en- 
tered. 

Only  for  a  moment,  however,  was  there  any 
doubt  what  to  do;  and  again  it  was  White  Fox 
who  brought  the  solution.  For  she  hauled  off 
into  the  bush  at  the  side  of  the  path,  and  began 
burrowing  down  into  the  snow.  Jim  followed, 
not  without  a  sinking  feeling  at  heart,  and  in 
less  than  a  minute  was  kneeling  over  the 
prostrate  body  of  his  father. 

"Father!  Father!  It's  me  — Jim."  But  no 
answer  still.  Yes,  he  was  breathing,  breathing 
loudly.  And  warm,  too,  where  Curly  had 
evidently  been  cuddled  up  against  him.  There 
was  only  one  chance.  Could  he  find  the  wood 
sledge?  For  if  so  he  might  be  able  to  save  his 
father's  life. 

Curly  was  bubbling  over  with  joy,  and 
probably  connecting  Jim's  arrival  with  the 
chance  for  some  supper  after  all.    She  was 

159 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

dancing  all  about,  entangling  her  trace  around 
Jim's  legs,  and  positively  forcing  him  to  notice 
it.  Seizing  it  with  his  hands,  he  followed  it 
along.  It  seemed  never  to  end,  though  really 
it  was  only  thirty  feet  long,  but  it  was  en- 
tangled again  and  again  in  the  bushes,  and 
over  it  all  the  deep  snow  had  fallen.  He  had 
guessed  that  the  dog  was  still  fast  to  the 
sledge,  and  so  he  found  it  at  last,  the,sharp  up- 
turned prow  of  the  komatik  jabbing  right  into 
his  hand  from  the  drift  as  he  groped  after  it  in 
the  dark. 

It  must  have  taken  another  full  hour  to  dig 
the  sledge  out,  and  haul  it  alongside  Uncle  Ike, 
to  drag  the  limp  and  helpless  body  upon  it,  and 
then  so  to  fix  it  with  lashings  that  his  father 
could  not  fall  off  on  the  journey  home. 

A  team  of  dogs  going  home  on  a  night  of 
that  kind  is  almost  as  irresistible  as  a  traction 
engine,  and  Jim's  only  trouble  was  to  keep  the 
sledge  right  side  up.  That  he  somehow  suc- 
ceeded is  actually  certain,  for  in  the  early 
hours  of  the  morning,  Aunt  Rachel  was  roused 
by  the  sound  of  the  dogs  outside,  and,  positively 
rushing  into  the  night,  she  fell  on  the  pittful 
burden  they  had  brought  to  her  little  cottage. 

160 


White  Fox 

It  was  now  her  chance  to  call  on  her  reserve 
strength,  and  that  she  certainly  must  have 
done.  Buoyed  up  by  his  success,  Jim's  endur- 
ance did  not  fail  him  either,  and,  guided  by 
the  intuitive  knowledge  of  a  good  housewife, 
the  two  were  soon  chafing  Uncle  Ike's  half- 
frozen  limbs,  as  he  lay  before  a  gorgeous  fire, 
rolled  in  warm  Hudson's  Bay  "four-point'* 
blankets. 

It  was  not  long  before  a  little  hot  nourish- 
ment was  successfully  forced  between  his  lips, 
and  he  was  able  to  open  his  eyes  and  give  the 
anxious  watchers  a  smile  of  recognition. 

Uncle  Ike  was  never  quite  able  to  remember 
how  it  all  happened.  He  had  reached  the 
clump,  tied  up  his  team,  and  was  cutting  away, 
when  suddenly  he  felt  odd,  dropped  his  axe, 
and  could  no  longer  stand  upright.  However, 
he  had  sufficient  mental  power  left  to  reason 
that  his  only  chance  lay  in  reaching  his  sledge. 
The  dogs  instantly  answered  his  call,  but  they 
were  all  fast  to  the  komatik,  and  were  unable 
to  reach  him,  as  that  was  purposely  tied  to  a 
stump.  That  was  all  he  knew,  except  that  one 
dog  at  last  got  near  him  as  he  lay,  and  cud- 
dling up  close  to  him,  kept  him  from  freezing 

161 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

to  death.  The  others  in  their  excitement  had 
chewed  through  their  traces  or,  as  White  Fox 
had  done,  succeeded  in  slipping  their  harnesses. 

Then  White  Fox  must  have  hurried  home  for 
help,  and  the  other  dogs  that  could  get  loose 
had  followed  her  —  as  they  were  always  used 
to  do. 

No,  White  Fox  was  not  forgotten.  Jim  says 
before  he  lay  down  to  sleep  he  could  not  help 
just  going  out  to  give  <  lurly  some  supper,  and 
a  few  extra  little  titbits  for  White  Fox,  but  he 
found  her  as  peacefully  asleep  as  if  she  had 
done  nothing  unusual.  She  slept  that  night  as 
many  a  "better-oil"'  being  has  never  known 
how  to. 


THREE   EYES 

"It's  no  good,  master.  If  you  don't  go  ahead 
and  break  the  path  with  your  long  legs,  I  can't 
go  a  step  farther"  —  and  my  beautiful  leading 
dog  Snowball  fairly  sat  down  on  her  haunches 
and  faced  me.  It  was  her  appealing  eyes  that 
spoke,  of  course,  but  their  "  say-so  "  means  more 
than  any  amount  of  talk  does.  Truth  to  say, 
I  was  not  surprised,  for  the  bottomless  light 
snow  had  compelled  us  to  walk  ahead  on  our 
racquets  since  dawn,  the  heavy  sleigh  had  com- 
pletely beaten  out  the  dogs,  and  we  were  all 
of  us  about  "all  ia,"  as  they  say  on  the  Coast. 

Bidding  the  team  sit  down,  I  climbed 
through  the  wood  on  one  side  of  the  hill  which 
we  were  skirting,  so  as  to  try  and  make  out  our 
position.  Soon,  to  my  infinite  satisfaction,  I 
found  that  we  were  on  the  bluff  of  the  sea- 
cliffs,  and  that  away  below  us  the  sparkle  of  a 
small  light  was  visible. 

"Surely,  that's  Jerry  Scanlan's  cottage  just 
below  us,  Snowball,"  I  said  on  returning  to 
the  team.  "Pull  yourselves  together  for  the 
last  bit.  We  can  almost  roll  on  to  it  from  the 
bluff." 

1G3 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

Without  a  word  of  remonstrance,  she  un- 
curled herself  from  the  hole  she  had  made  in 
the  snow,  snapped  out  a  call  to  the  team,  and 
waded  off  once  more  chest-high  through  the 
endless  drift. 

"A  day's  rest  won't  hurt  'era,"  said  Jerry  to 
me  the  next  morning,  as  I  stood  on  the  porch 
receiving  the  morning  salutations  of  my  dogs. 
'Nor  you  either,"  he  added.  "There  be  plenty 
of  good  herrin'  for  the  dogs,  and  you  and  me 
can  have  a  day's  swatchin'"  —  which  means 
trying  to  shoot  old  seals  in  the  holes  of  water 
among  the  pack  ice.  'I'll  give  'em  two  feeds 
to-day,  if  you'll  stay,"  he  went  on,  seeing  me 
hesitate,  "and  they  11  do  two  days'  work  in  one 
to-morrow." 

"There's  more  logic  than  there  sounds  in 
that,"  I  mused,  as  I  noted  how  my  dogs,  well 
nourished  when  winter  work  began,  now 
showed  the  anatomv  of  their  ribs. 

"Very  well,  feed  'em  now,  Jerry,"  I  an- 
swered, which  of  course  meant  that  you  could 
not  drive  them  any  more  that  day. 

As  we  started  out  on  the  floe,  I  was  sur- 
prised to  find  a  large  white,  gray-whiskered 
dog,  with  a  single  rakish  black  patch  over  one 

1G4 


Three  Eyes 

eye,  which  had  earned  him  the  sobriquet  of 
"  Three  Eyes,"  following  us.  He  had  on  his 
harness,  with  a  long  trace  trailing  behind. 

'Frighten  the  seals,  won't  he,  Jerry?"  I 
called  out,  thinking  he  had  not  noticed  the  dog. 
.  "Don't  you  believe  it,  Doctor.  I  would  n't 
go  without  him  for  fifty  dollars." 

After  a  long  and  unsuccessful  day  on  the  ice, 
the  wind  being  too  much  on  shore,  and  the 
"swatches,"  or  open  water,  being  mostly 
closed,  as  we  sat  before  the  crackling  log  fire 
I  suddenly  became  aware  that  the  big  white 
dog  was  stretched  out  under  the  table.  I  had 
never  seen  a  sledge  dog  inside  a  house  before. 

'Is  Three  Eyes  allowed  in  the  house? ':  I 
asked;  "because  he's  under  the  table." 

'That's  his  right,  Doctor,"  said  Jerry, 
"ever  since  he  saved  my  life." 

You  can  generally  tell  something  about  a 
man  himself  if  you  know  his  dog,  and  I  was 
sure  that  if  Three  Eyes  was  a  reflection  of 
Jerry,  he  was  worth  closer  acquaintance. 

"Tell  me  something  about  the  dog,  Jerry. 
How  did  he  save  your  life?" 

"I'm  reckonin'  he's  done  it  more  than  once, 
Doctor.    He's  a  traveled  dog,  is  Three  Eyes. 

165 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

He 's  been  to  France,  too.  One  of  them  French- 
men that  comes  out  in  the  summer  fishin' 
heard  about  the  dog,  and  one  day  I  could  n't 
find  him  anywhere.  After  two  or  three  days  I 
started  out  to  look  for  him,  but  he  was  no- 
where to  be  found,  and  it  was  n't  till  some  of 
the  ships  had  left  that  a  man  up  and  told  me 
he'd  seen  Three  Eyes  on  the  Belle  Marie,  when 
he  was  aboard  getting  a  bottle  of  wine  for  his 
wife.  Brother  Jim  was  just  going  South  in  our 
schooner  for  supplies,  and  I  sent  a  telegram  by 
him,  to  be  sent  to  France  to  ask  them  to  look 
out  for  the  dog.  Well,  sir,  I  heard  no  more 
about  it  till  one  day  just  about  a  year  later, 
when  in  walks  Three  Eyes  all  by  himself, 
waggin'  his  tail,  as  if  he'd  just  been  for  a  little 
walk  round  the  house,  instead  of  halfway 
round  the  world.  A  French  captain  told  me 
after  that  the  customs  officer  had  seized  the 
dog  when  the  Belle  Marie  came  to  Havre, 
and  had  sent  him  back  by  my  old  friend 
Captain  Denis.  The  skipper  had  landed  him 
about  four  miles  from  home  as  he  passed  along 
the  Coast,  and  Three  Eyes  had  just  walked 
home  by  himself. 

"Them  was  the  days  of  my  poverty,  Doctor. 

166 


Three  Eyes 

Us  had  a  hard  family,  six  boys  and  four  girls, 
and  all  small,  too.  The  traders  had  it  all  their 
own  way  them  times.  Provisions  was  that 
high  that  us  was  on  a  dry  diet  more  than  once 
by  New  Year's.  And  clothin'  —  well,  that 
was  mostly  beyond  reach  altogether.  The 
only  chance  us  had  for  fresh  food  before  t'  fish 
set  in  in  June  was  seals  and  ducks,  and  they 
don't  come  down  till  late  in  April;  so  you  may 
believe  that  Three  Eyes  knew  all  about  swiles. 
He'd  dive  down  in  three  fathoms  o'  water  for 
a  cent  any  time,  and  more  than  one  was  the 
swile  that  he  brought  me  up  from  the  bottom 
in  t'  fall  before  they  gets  fat  enough  to  float  by 
theirselves.  I've  had  many  dogs  in  my  time, 
—  good  dogs,  mind  you,  too,  —  but  none 
quite  like  Three  Eyes.  If  you  loses  your  way 
in  a  blizzard,  you  can  just  leave  it  to  Three 
Eyes,  and  he'll  take  you  right  home.  If  you 
shoots  anything  in  the  water,  never  mind  how 
rough,  you  can  bet  Three  Eyes '11  bring  it.  If 
you  drops  anything  off  the  komatik,  you  can 
just  send  him  back,  and  he'll  find  it  for  you 
if  't  is  a  mile  behind.  I  takes  him  fishin'  be- 
cause if  I  lose  a  fish  off  t'  hook,  Three  Eyes  '11 
go  in  after  it,  and  mostly  get  him  too.   'Deed, 

167 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

I  would  n't  be  here  yarnin'  to-night  if  it  was  n't 
for  that  great  white  brute  there  under  the 
table." 

At  this  remark  the  dog's  eyes  looked  up, 
though  his  ehin  remained  glued  to  the  floor 
between  his  great  furry  paws,  and  he  seemed 
to  smile  a>  he  pretended  to  sleep  again. 

"Come  New  Year  there  was  nothin'  in  the 
cupboard,  and  for  tea  us  was  drinkhV  the 
spruce-tops  and  boilin'  water.  When  March 
eatiie  in,  flour  was  scarce  enough,  too,  and  if  us 
could  n't  get  swiles  it  looked  like  starvation. 
February  had  gone  out  blustersome,  and  there 
was  nothin'  but  the  ojkmi  water  left  —  not  a 
whelpin'-pan  to  hold  e'er  an  old  harp  to  have 
her  young  on,  however  much  she  might  ha' 
wanted  it.  At  last,  however,  the  winds  shifted, 
and  the  ice  began  to  run  in.  It  was  long  before 
dawnin'  next  day  when  me  and  Three  Eyes 
was  out  lookin'  for  swiles.  The  wind  had 
pinned  the  runnin'  ice  ag'in'  the  standin' 
edge,  and  it  looked  good  swilin'  ice,  too.  I 
thought  it  was  as  well  to  die  one  way  as  an- 
other, and  so  here  goes  —  and  we  started  out 
across  the  floe. 

:As  luck  would  have  it,  there  was  n't  a 

168 


a 


Three  Eyes 

sign  o'  swilcs  near  to,  but  Three  Eyes  was 
rangin'  ahead  and  searchin'  everywhere.  When 
lie  was  about  three  miles  out  he  gave  tongue, 
and  soon  I  had  a  dozen  fine  old  fellows,  and 
two  or  three  white-coats  killed,  close  to  the 
outer  edge. 

"I  did  n't  like  t'  look  o'  things  too  well,  for 
I  felt  sure  t'  wind  had  veered  by  the  feelin' 
in  the  air.  So  I  laced  up  one  for  Three  Eyes, 
and  started  off  as  hard  as  I  could  go,  haulm' 
one  myself.  I  knew  right  then  t'  wind  had 
really  changed,  for  it  were  right  ahead  again, 
and  what's  more  I  knew  that  if  it  shifted  the 
ice  off  even  a  few  vards,  us  'd  have  little 
chance  of  ever  seein'  home  again.  I  reckon 
that  must  have  made  me  careless,  for  I  had 
barely  time  to  see  us  was  on  black  ice  before  in 
she  goes,  and  I  was  strugglin'  in  the  water.  I 
can't  swim,  Doctor;  t'  water's  too  cold  down 
here  to  learn,  but  somehow  I  got  hold  of  t' 
edge  and  hung  on.  But  there  was  no  gettin' 
out  for  me;  t'  heavy  pans  is  far  too  high  out  o* 
water  —  and  so  I  thought  t'  end  had  come,  and 
I  tell  vou  I  thought  of  the  wife  and  children. 
It  so  happened  Three  Eyes  had  better  sense, 
and  had  gone  round  the  young  ice.    He  must 

1G9 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

have  missed  me  right  off,  for  though  he  was 
haulin'  a  heavy  old  dog  harp,  he  was  on  the 
nearest  pan  starin'  right  at  me  when  I  got  my 
eyes  clear  o'  water.  As  I  minds  it  now,  he  must 
have  done  his  thinkin'  quick,  knowm'  I 
could  n't  last  many  seconds  in  that  water. 
For  almost  before  I  knew  what  had  happened, 
lie  had  heaved  me  the  line  that  was  fast  to  the 
swile,  mind  you,  and  as  soon  as  he  felt  me 
catch  hold,  he  started  to  haul  me  out  o'  t* 
water.  What  he  really  done  was  to  run  round 
and  round  V  hole  quite  quick  like,  and  t'  line 
which  was  fasl  to  t'  old  harp  at  V  other  end, 
just  had  to  come  into  my  hands. 

"'I  thinks  still,  Doctor,  he  thought  it  out 
hisself,  for  he  is  n't  much  of  a  dog  for  talk  and 
show,  as  you  knows,  hut  that  time  he  fairly  let 
hisself  go.  Well,  us  was  hurryin'  all  we  knowed 
how  before  that  happened,  but  now  I  had  to 
cut  the  swile  loose  and  run  for  my  life.  My 
clothes  was  freezin'  like  boards,  and  even  that 
little  time  lost  might  mean  that  we  would  n't 
be  able  to  land.  And  land  us  did  only  by  God's 
mercy.  For  instead  of  the  whole  floe  goin' 
straight  off,  it  had  wheeled  round,  and  though 
there    was   open    water   all    round    when    us 

170 


Three  Eyes 

reached  t'  edge,  by  runnin'  along  us  just  got 
a  corner  that  touched  t'  shore  ice  as  it  wheeled, 
and  so  got  home  safe,  glad  enough,  even 
though  us  had  no  swile,  and  only  dry  flour 
again  that  night  for  supper.  Only  Three  Eyes 
seemed  unhappy,  somehow,  though  you  may 
be  sure  he  got  all  I  had  to  give  him  to  eat,  but 
I  guess  he  was  wish  in'  he  had  had  his  supper 
before  he  left  those  swiles. 

'Well,  sir,  t'  next  day,  and  t'  next  day,  and 
t'  day  after  that,  Three  Eyes  and  me  was  out 
from  daylight  till  dark  lookin'  for  them  swiles, 
or  any  others  thai  we  could  find.  But  no  luck 
came  along,  and  I  was  so  sure  that  that  ice  had 
gone  that  I  had  given  up  hope  altogether.  So 
the  next  day  I  never  went  out  at  all.  I  never 
mistrusted  either  but  that  Three  Eyes  was 
home,  too,  that  morning,  till  just  about  mid- 
day, when  I  called,  but  could  n't  find  a  sign 
of  him.  Xo  one  had  seen  him  goin'  out,  and  if 
he  left  that  day  he  must  have  started  before 
daylight. 

"Anyhow,  when  I  went  out  on  t'  cliff  to 
look  for  him,  I  saw  him  gallopin'  home  along 
t'  edge,  just  as  hard  as  he  could  come.  Of 
course  you   may   say   that   dogs   can't   talk, 

171 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

Doctor,  but  that's  just  the  difFerenee, — 
Three  Eyes  can  mostly  make  you  understand 
what  it  is  he  wants.  He  soon  told  me,  anyhow, 
that  he  wanted  me  to  come  along.  So  I  gets 
my  gun  right  off,  and  away  I  goes  after  him, 
runnin'  just  all  I  could  to  keep  up,  too. 

"There's  a  small  island  that's  little  better 
than  a  lot  of  cobblv  rocks  off  t'  south  end  o'  t' 
main  island  —  lyin'  out,  I  guess,  some  few 
hundred  yards  from  the  beach.  That  was  all 
I  could  see  besides  ice  when  we  got  at  last  to  t' 
land's  end.  But  Three  Eyes  did  n't  stop  there 
—  down  he  goes,  jumps  right  in  oil"  t'  edge,  and 
swims  off  to  t'  rocks.  Well,  sir,  when  lie  came 
back,  all  I  knew  was  that  he  had  had  his 
supper,  and  it  had  been  swile-meat,  too. 

"That's  how  he  told  me  where  those  swiles 
had  gone.  Xext  day  me  and  all  the  boys 
hauled  t'  punt  down  to  t'  edge,  and  went  off 
in  her.  Sure  enough,  there  were  our  swiles. 
When  that  floe  wheeled,  t'  outer  edge  must 
have  stuck  right  on  the  point  of  the  island, 
and  then  gone  on,  leavin'  the  pans  with  our 
swiles  jammed  against  the  little  island.  Any-, 
how,  there  was  six  old  harps  and  four  white- 
coats.    I  minds  t'  number  as  if  it  was  yester- 

172 


Three  Eyes 

day;  and  that  was  meat  enough  for  our  crowd, 
whatever  else  happened,  to  tide  us  till  t'  fish 
struck  in,  or  t'  traders  came  back  with  sum- 
mer supplies. 

"Lie  down,  there,  Three  Eyes,"  he  added  in 
the  same  breath;  and  I  noticed  for  the  first 
time  that  the  dog  had  got  up  while  he  was 
finishing  the  story,  and  was  pressing  his  chin 
down  on  Jerry's  knee  to  attract  his  attention, 
while  his  bright  eyes  were  fixed  motionlessly 
on  Jerry's.  They  said,  quite  intelligently, 
"That's  all  right,  master.  I  only  wish  I  had 
the  chance  to  do  it  all  over  again." 

I  noticed  also  that  Jerry  rubbed  the  dog's 
head  even  while  he  pretended  to  scold  him. 
And  I  don't  think  tears  were  far  from  Jerry's 
eyes  either.  But  then,  the  logs  were  burning  a 
little  low,  and  he  was  n't  looking  my  way. 


TIIE   LUCK  OF   THE   LITTLE   ROVER 

Our  Northern  Hospital  has  a  mission  room 
attached  to  it  —  a  most  humble  affair  with  a 
plain  board  interior.  The  innumerable  knots 
in  the  bare  wood  show  clearly  that  the  timber 
has  been  cut  from  the  gnarled  spruces  of  our 
North  country. 

One  Sunday  afternoon,  when  the  service  was 
over  and  the  little  congregation  was  straggling 
out,  one  of  the  men  stopped  behind  to  talk  to 
me.  He  was  a  born  sailor,  quiet,  self-confident, 
and  with  no  end  of  initiative.  He  was  carrying 
on  a  fishery  near  by,  which,  when  we  first  built 
the  hospital,  had  been  his  father's,  who  also  in 
his  day  was  a  brave  and  successful  fisherman. 

During  the  twenty  years  past,  when  any 
help  had  been  needed  in  that  district,  it  had 
always  been  to  their  house  that  we  had  first 
gone  to  seek  it,  and  it  was  invariably  rendered 
without  charge  or  delay.  The  best  of  neighbors 
and  a  trusted  friend,  he  had  been  through  deep 
waters  since  we  parted  in  the  fall  of  last  year; 
and  we  were  anxious  to  hear  the  story  of  it, 
though  we  feared  to  recall  it  unnecessarily  to 
his  mind. 

174 


The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 

With  the  energy  characteristic  of  the  man, 
when  the  fall  of  winter  had  driven  him  forth 
from  his  Labrador  station,  he  had  speedily 
settled  up  his  accounts  and  gone  on  freighting 
trips  on  the  north  coast  in  his  vessel,  the 
Little  Rover,  long  after  most  of  the  schooners 
had  retired  to  winter  quarters.  The  long,  dark 
nights  and  heavy  ground  seas  that  character- 
ize the  last  months  of  the  year,  and  the  bitter 
cold  which  freezes  the  running  rigging  stiff  and 
makes  the  sails  like  wooden  boards,  had  at 
length  convinced  him  that  even  he  could  no 
longer  venture  to  keep  the  seas.  So  when  he 
got  a  fair  wind,  with  a  free  sheet  and  an  extra 
large  load  of  lumber,  they  went  spinning  home- 
ward with  glad  hearts.  His  crew  were  his 
two  brothers,  a  brother-in-law,  and  two  hired 
men,  making  a  total  of  six.  Loaded  as  they 
were,  it  was  not  wise  at  any  time,  and  at  this 
season  of  year  it  would  have  been  criminal 
folly,  to  risk  a  bad  night  at  sea.  So  when  sud- 
denly, just  at  nightfall,  the  wind  veered  to 
dead  ahead,  and  the  barometer  made  a  sharp 
corresponding  drop,  as  the  vessel  was  then 
many  miles  from  any  shelter,  it  was  decided 
to  run  back  for  the  port  which  they  had  left,  a 

175 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

matter  of  Borne  thirtv  miles.  Many  islands 
and  sunken  rocks  Lie  off  thai  section  of  coast, 
and  the  water  runs  off  everywhere  shallow  for 

many  mile-,  30  thai   heavy  Beas  make  quickly 

with  the  least  l»it  of  wind.  To  find  any  an- 
chorage it  v.  ntial  to  run  in  between 
some  large  reefs,  which,  like  most  of  our 
dangers,  are  neither  lighted  n<>r  buoyed.  It 
was  dark  when  the  first  group  was  reached,  but 

thev    were    SOOD    Safely    passed.      Willi    a    look- 

out  man  on  the  bow,  and  hiiw«All  astride  the 
main  cross-trees,  the  skipper  had  managed  to 
make  out  bearii  sufficiently  well  t<>  avoid 
the  rocks  on  one  side,  without  running  into 
those  on  the  other.  For  a  brief  moment  there 
was  comparative  Bafety,  and  then  again 
another  set  of  ugly  dangers  had  bo  l>e  passed 

close  by.    It   was  now  pitch-dark  and  snowing 

heavily,  and  the  wind  had  risen  to  a  howling 

gale    of    winter.     With    mainsail    doused    and 

reefed  foresail,  the  schooner  drove  before  it. 
The  master  as  before  placed  himself  on  the 
cross-trees,  in  the  vain  hope  that  he  might 
thence  possibly  gel  a  glimpse  of  something  to 
guide  him  on  his  cours  lecially  as  he  neared 
the  Narrows.    At  length  the  log  showed  that 

176 


The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 

their  distance  was  run  down;  also,  to  judge  by 
the  time  when  they  had  started  to  run,  they 
must  be  past  the  la.-^t  danger  and  safe  to  make 
the  harbor  light  within  a  few  minutes  any- 
how. 

Except  for  the  hoarse  roar  of  the  storm  no 

sound  was  heard,  —  it    was  far  too  exciting  a 

momenl  for  conversation.  Suddenly,  from  his 

perch  aloft  the  skipper's  horrified  gaze  fell  on 

a  long  line  of  rocks  and  breakers  right  below 

him,  looking  almost  as  if  lie  could  jump  di- 
rectly down  upon  them.  With  every  ounce  of 
strength  in  him  he  shouted  to  the  helmsman; 
"Hard  up!  Hard  up,  or  she's  ashore!"  There 
was  still  then  probably  just  time  to  save  her. 
But  the  shrieking  of  the  wind  through  the 
cordage  made  his  voice  inaudible;  the  helms- 
man put  the  helm  the  wrong  way,  and 
with  a  frightful  concussion  tin1  heavily  loaded 
vessel  crashed  into  those  adamantine  rocks. 
Instantly  she  was  overwhelmed  by  heavy 
seas.  Mountainous  breakers  poured  over  her 
doomed  bulwarks  from  all  sides  at  once.  It 
was  only  a  few  moments  before  the  mainmast 
had  gone  by  the  board  with  a  crash,  and  the 
stern  of  the  vessel,  battered  by  the  thundering 

177 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

surf,  soon  broke  up  to  matchwood  and  went 
after  it. 

All  six  men  had,  however,  succeeded  in  get- 
ting to  the  foremasl  rigging,  and  soon  were 
clinging  for  dear  lift*  to  the  shrouds.    The  fore 

part  «»f  the  wreck,  still  surging  as  the  gigantic 
breakers  struck  her,  threatened  every  moment 

to  go  to  pieces,  and  all  hands  knew  that  thai 

would  spell  immediate  death.  The  masl  rolled 
and  swayed  to  and  fro  before  the  force  of  the 

seas.    The  snow  and  spray  drove  through  the 

men's  clothing  just  as  if  they  had  been  naked. 
It  froze  in  icicles  on  their  faces,  and  at  times 
made  their  clothe-  as  stiff  as  boards.  So  miser- 
able was  their  plight  that  they  hardly  knew 

I  o  *  * 

whether  to  pray  that  the  mast  might  soon  go 
and  mercifully  end  their  misery  quickly,  or 
thai  it  might  stand  long  enough  so  that  after 
hours  of  agony  they  might  have  a  chance  of 
being  seen  from  the  land,  which  was  about  two 
miles  away.  All  anticipated  the  worst,  and 
each  bade  farewell  to  the  others.  One  of  the 
men,  older  than  the  rest,  soon  began  to  show- 
signs  of  giving  out,  and  so,  to  keep  the  others 
in  heart,  the  skipper  proposed  that  they 
should  sing  a  hymn. 

178 


The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 

The  whole  scene  was  to  me  the  more  realistic 
from  the  quiet  way  in  which  he  pictured  it. 
Think  of  that  long  winter  night,  six  men  cling- 
ing to  the  sorry  remnant  of  a  vessel  in  the  boil- 
ing surf  of  a  reef  far  out  in  the  ocean.  They 
were  buried  in  snow  and  sea  and  darkness,  with 
deatli  looming  ahead  any  moment.  Yet,  in 
spite  of  the  war  of  surf  and  tempest,  they  were 
calmly  singing  the  old  familiar  strains  of 
"Itock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me,  let  me  hide  myself 
in  Thee";  and  then,  when  that  had  died 
away :  — 

"  Jesus,  Lover  of  my  soul. 
Let  me  to  Thy  Bosom  fly; 
While  the  nearer  waters  roll, 
While  the  tempest  still  is  high." 

Surely  there,  if  anywhere,  the  Almighty  was 
in  touch  with  the  souls  of  men. 

"You  prayed  also,  I  suppose,  Skipper,  did 
you  not?"   I  interposed. 

"No,  Doctor;  I'm  not  a  Christian,  you 
know,"  was  his  amazing  reply. 

'Whatever  do  you  mean  by  that?"  I  asked. 

"Why,  I  can  never  testify  in  the  meeting,  or 
even  pray,"  he  answered. 

"  But  it  gave  you  comfort  to  sing,  I  suppose?  " 

179 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

"Oh,  yes;  it  cheered  us  a  lot,  and  we  began 

to  hope  and  even   think  thai   the  mast   might 

hold  on  till  daylight." 

"The  vessel's  bow,"  continued  the  skip- 
per, "must  have  been  jammed  in  between 
boulders.  Perhaps  th<v  seas  had  driven  her  up 
farther  among  the  cliffs.  Anyhow,  the  waves 
now  swept  over  her  somewhat  less.  Perhaps 
the  wind  and  the  tide  were  going  dow n  -we 
could  n't  telL    It  seemed  ages  since  we  had 

Btruck,  when  Maidenly  I   noticed  that   a  large 

part  of  our  deckload  of  lumber  had  been 
washed  for'ard  by  the  seas,  and  was  jammed 
in  one  huge  pile  between  the  rigging  and  the 
mast.  It  struck  me  at  once  thai  it'  only  we 
could  gel  some  rope  to  lash  it   together,  we 

mighl   yet    have  another  chance  for  our  li\ 

even  if  the  mast  should  go  before  daylight.  I 
was  able,  by  clinging  to  the  spars,  to  crawl  oul 

on  what  was  left  of  the  boom  and  catch  hold  of 
a  line,  which  proved  to  he  one  of  the  reef- 
lacings.  The  outer  end  had  come  loose  when 
the  canvas  went,  so  I  hauled  it  in  and  cut  it  off 
as  low  as  I  could  reach.  Everything  else  had 
gone.  When  I  came  to  look  for'ard  of  the  mast 
I  caught  hold  of  a  jib-stopper,  and  managed 

180 


The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 

to  haul  it  up  and  cut  off  a  long  piece  of  that  as 
well.  Yet,  after  all,  in  the  darkness  and  cold, 
we  could  do  nothing  worth  while  with  such 
short  pieces;  though  a  little  later  I  did  manage 
to  get  one  of  the  lanyards. 

'It  must  have  been  about  four  o'clock  — 
anyhow  it  was  a  long  while  before  the  day 
broke  —  that  the  mast  began  gradually  to 
cant  over  more  and  more;  and  then  suddenly 
it  snapped  off  close  to  the  gammon  and  went 
over  the  side.  The  sea  had  meanwhile  grown  a 
little  quieter,  and  the  wind  had  veered  to  the 
west'ard.  This  enabled  us  to  cling  bitter  to 
the  mass  of  lumber  which  was  tangled  with  the 
rigging.  But  to  our  dismay  we  found  that  now 
the  wind  was  off  from  the  island  on  the  end  of 
which  we  had  struck,  and  on  to  which  we  had 
hoped  to  escape  at  daylight.  We  could  see  that 
there  was  no  longer  any  chance  whatever  of 
our  getting  on  to  that,  although  it  seemed 
only  a  few  yards  from  us.  Plainly  there  was 
no  chance  for  any  swimmer  to  get  through  the 
surf  alive. 

"We  just  lay  there  waiting  events,  stretched 
out  on  the  lumber,  with  first  one  piece  and  then 
another  washing  away  from  us.    Every  now 

181 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

and  again  the  mast,  which  was  still  fast  by  the 
wire  shrouds  <>f  the  rigging,  would  rush  into  the 
raft  <>n  .1  sea,  like  a  huge  bat  tering-ram,  almosl 
knocking  it  to  pieces.  Though  we  badly  wanted 
to  keep  the  ^>ar  to  float  us  as  our  lasl  chance, 
if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  there  was  no 
hope  of  holding  the  lumber  together  if  we  did; 

SO  I  made  uj)  my  mind  to  cut  her  away  if  I 
could  and  let  her  go.  Id  was  si  ill  inky  dark  and 

bitterly  cold,  and  it  was  no  easy  ta^k  to  get 
down  to  the  lanyards  without  being  washed 
away.  To  cut  the  wire  shrouds  was  out  of  the 
question:  we  had  neither  axe  nor  chisel;  only 
our  small  jack-knives.    Yet   to  get  free  from 

that   mast  was  our  only  chance. 

"Once  more  I  crawled  along,'  half  under 
water  this  time,  and  somehow  managed  to  get 
at  the  ropes  long  enough  to  cut  them  one  by 
one  from  the  dead-eyes.  Tangled  as  the  rigging 
was,  with  the  Lumber  washed  criss-cross  and 
every  way  as  the  sea  drove  the  spar  to  leeward, 
it  seemed  as  if  the  raft  must  still,  in  a  few 
moments  at  best,  go  to  pieces.  But  somehow 
through  God's  Providence  the  whole  mass  of 
it  worked  loose  together,  was  lifted  by  a  big 
sea  right 'clear  of  the  wreck,  and  we  shortly 

182 


The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 

found  ourselves,  all  six  of  us,  lying  out  on  loose 
boards,  and  driving  in  the  darkness  toward  the 
open  ocean,  with  neither  the  schooner  nor  any- 
thing  else  visible  any  longer. 

"No,  we  didn't  speak  much,  only  just 
enough  to  make  sure  every  now  and  again  that 
we  were  all  there.  Each  man  who  could  was 
fully  occupied  trying  to  catch  and  haul  back 
and  push  under  the  rest  again  the  pieces  of 
loose  plank,  as  the  sea  kept  tearing  them  from 
the  raft.  Ages  seemed  to  go  by.  But  at  last 
daylight  began  Jo  come,  and  we  could  see  the 
mainland  and  houses  almost  three  miles  away, 
looming  up  large  every  time  we  rose  on  a  wave. 
Also  out  to  seaward  we  could  make  out  a  low 
island  on  which  we  knew  a  lighthouse  had 
recently  been  built. 

'Hope  revived  with  the  daylight,  and,  find- 
ing that  we  could  stand  on  the  raft,  we  piled 
several  boards  on  end,  and  hoisted  first  a  piece 
of  canvas  that  had  been  torn  from  the  foresail 
and  got  tangled  in  the  lumber,  and  then  articles 
of  our  own  saturated  clothing  —  though  we 
could  ill  afford  to  spare  it  even  for  that  pur- 
pose. We  all  felt  now  that  any  one  looking  out 
would  be  sure  to  see  us.  It  was  Sunday  morning 

183 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

and  bright  and  clear  overhead;  certainly  the 
men  would  Dot  be  working,  hut  would  be  about 
their  houses  outside.  For  a  time  we  fell  as  if 
we  were  actually  safe.  The  houses,  which  were 
entirely  clear  to  view  now,  were  all  those  of 
fishermen.  Without  a  shadow  of  doubl  they 
would  notice  such  a  stxange-looking  object  as 
we  were.    But  we  forgot,  I  supp        how  low 

we  were  in  the  water,  and  how  much  smaller 
one  OF   tWO  floating  boards  are  than  a   hoi 

raised  on  the  beach  above  the  landwash. 
"As  the  day  wore  on,  hope  once  more  b 

to  fail  us.  No  si|  11  of  help  showed  from  the 
shore,  and  though  we  only  drifted  skra  ly,  every 

hour  drove  us  farther  and  farther  off.     And 

then  all  of  a  sudden  we  In  mm  i  He  aw;  i  re  of  a  new 

danger  —  a  line  of  breakers  lay  dead  to  !• 

ward,  in  the  very  direction  in  which  we  were 
driving,  and  warned  us  that  if  help  did  not 
come  soon  it  would  be  too  late.  Mustering  all 
our  strength  we  tried  all  we  could  to  change 
the  course  of  our  raft.  We  tried  to  row,  and 
then  to  paddle,  using  board-  as  oars.  We  tried 
to  steer  her  and  swing  her  with  our  longest 
planks  as  rudders.  We  made  sails  of  some  of 
the  boards  on  one  corner  of  the  raft,  or  again 

184 


The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 

pushed  them  into  the  sea,  first  at  one  end  and 
then  at  the  other.  But  all  our  efforts  failed  to 
alter  our  direction  one  iota.  Nearer  and  nearer 
we  drove  to  the  shoals,  absolutely  helpless  to 
save  ourselves. 

"Yes,  we  looked  many  times  toward  the 
houses  and  the  land  where  were  boats  and  men 
in  plenty.  But  we  knew  at  heart  that  they  had 
not  seen  us.  Then  the  sea  rose  under  us.  The 
breakers  crashed  into  our  crazy  craft  again, 
and  once  more  we  bade  one  another  good-bj'e, 
as  it  seemed  as  if  the  raft  were  all  in  pieces,  and 
death  only  a  matter  of  moments. 

"But  somehow  we  were  again  able  to  grab 
and  hold  on  to  projecting  pieces,  and  when  we 
had  once  more  driven  clear,  —  passing  right 
over  the  reef,  —  we  found  that  the  raft  was  in 
two  pieces  which  were  only  a  dozen  yards  apart. 
My  brother  and  brother-in-law  were  lying  out 
flat  on  a  few  planks;  the  rest  of  us  were  clinging 
to  the  other  remnant.  Scattered  boards  were 
washing  around  everywhere,  but  we  could  only 
get  hold  of  a  very  few.  So  with  the  inevitable 
end  seeming  to  get  nearer  and  nearer,  we  once 
asrain  began  our  long  drift  seaward. 

Soon  it  became  apparent  to  our  dismay 

185 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

that  the  larger  raft  was  leaving  the  other  be- 
hind. T  kept  calling  to  my  brother  to  try  and 
keep  together,  and  to  hold  up  the  planks  to 
catch  the  wind,  but  they  appeared  to  have 
none  to  spare.  We  ourselves  forced  several 
boards  straight  down  into  the  sea  through  our 
own  pile,  holding  them  there  fasl  SO  that  they 
mighl  act  as  drags.    Hut  we  had  no  control,  and 

still  cont inued  to  forge  ahead. 

"As  the  distance  widened,  we  still  shouted 

to  them  occasionally  t<>  keep  up  their  courage, 
and  at  lasl  we  had  to  hid  them  good-bye,  for 
fear  we  might  drift  out  of  ear-.shot,  and  then  it 
would  be  too  late. 

"Just    at    that    moment    another   wonderful 

thing  happened.  The  wind  veered  again, 
bringing  the  low  island  more  to  leeward  of  us, 
and  at  once  we  realized  that  there  was  still 
another  chance  to  be  saved.  We  could  see  that 
it  would  only  be  by  a  few  yards  at  best,  but  it 
was  at  least  possible.  Anyhow,  it  again  gave 
us  oew  pluck,  and  though  we  didjn't  pray  out 
loud  about  it,  or  perhaps  in  words,  I 'guess  we 
all  did  pray  somehow.  I  know  I  did.  And  we 
doubled  our  efforts  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  men  on  the  island. 

186 


The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 

'By  balancing  carefully,  we  could  still  stand 
upright  on  the  raft,  though  the  planks  were 
all  the  time  getting  fewer.  No  one  could  pos- 
sibly have  heard  us,  and  no  one  appeared  to 
see  us,  but  we  kept  shouting  and  waving  all  we 
could.  Meanwhile  we  still  worked  our  hardest 
to  try  and  turn  the  raft,  so  that  she  might  slew 
as  much  as  possible  to  windward. 

"Already  the  daylight  was  beginning  to  go 
again.  It  must  have  been  about  four  in  the 
afternoon  when  we  made  out  two  men  moving 
on  the  island,  which  was  then  not  more  than 
half  a  mile  distant  from  us.  It  was  n't  long  be- 
fore we  knew  that  they  had  seen  us.  Mean- 
while, the  wind  had  increased  again  consider- 
ably in  the  new  direction,  and  everywhere 
there  was  white  water  on  the  wave-crests. 
Much  more  came  over  us  on  our  poor  raft.  But, 
cold  as  it  must  have  been,  we  no  longer  even 
noticed  it.  Our  whole  minds  were  occupied 
with  watching  the  surf-line  of  the  island.  It 
seemed  strange  to  us  that  no  boat  came  out  to 
meet  us.  For  we  drifted  so  terribly  slowly,  and 
it  was  getting  darker  and  darker  all  the  time. 
We  might  have  known,  however,  that  no  boat 
could  possibly  have  lived  through  such  a  sea. 

187 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 


At  last  we  were  really  close  in,  and  we  were 
driving  so  close  to  the  point  that  one  minute 
We  were  BUPe  we  should  drive  ashore  and  be 

saved,  and  the  next  we  were  equally  positive 
thai  we  should  miss  the  island  and  all  perish 
together.  The  minutes  wenl  like  hours:  the 
cold  and  wet  and  hunger  were  all  forgotten. 

The  old  man  was  now  lying  jn>t  stretched  out 
on  the  boards,  and  it   was  all  we  could  do  to 

keep  him  from  being  washed  away.  Now  the 
Burf  on  the  point  was  roaring  so  loud  that  we 
could  no  longer  hear  one  another  speak,  but  as 

the  raft  rose  and  fell  on  the  sea  we  could  make 
out  the  men  on  the  land  beckoning,  and  evi- 
dently shouting.  We  could  hear  nothing  that 
they  said,  and  could  have  done  nothing  to  help, 
anyway. 

"The  other  raft  was  about  three  hundred  or 
four  hundred  yards  away  from  US,  and  was  just 
that  much  nearer  the  end  of  the  island.  They 
were  still  all  right  aboard  her,  and  we  could 
see  now  and  again  that  they  were  doing  their 
best  to  claw  her  to  windward.  Once  in  a  while 
we  waved  to  them  to  keep  on  trying.  Then 
suddenly  without  any  warning,  our  own  raft 
rose  on  the  top  of  a  huge  breaker,  a  sea  rushed 

188 


The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 

all  over  us,  and  our  crazy  bunch  of  boards 
struck  the  bottom  with  a  furious  crash.  We 
had  washed  right  into  the  line  of  huge  boulders, 
which  the  floe  ice  drops  everywhere  in  the 
spring  around  the  land  wash.  Fortunately  for 
us,  the  tide  was  at  half-flood,  so  that  sea  after 
sea  washed  us  farther  in  over  the  outermost 
rocks,  till  I  suppose  we  were  more  or  less  pro- 
tected from  the  heaviest  combers  of  the  deep 
water  outside.  But  even  now  we  knew  that 
without  help  none  of  us  could  hope  to  reach  the 
shore  alive.  Indeed,  we  could  not  have  done  so, 
if  the  men  on  the  shore  had  not  been  there. 
There  were  only  two  of  them,  but  they  roped 
themselves  together,  and  we  could  see  that  one 
of  them  was  beginning  to  work  himself  out  into 
the  sea  as  far  as  he  dared.  He  had  brought 
with  him  a  light  line,  which  with  the  aid  of  a 
stone  and  stick  he  at  last  succeeded  in  flinging 
over  us. 

"How  the  boards  had  kept  together  all  this 
time  no  man  on  earth  can  say,  but  as  soon  as  I 
caught  the  line  I  hauled  in  as  much  of  it  as  I 
could,  and  lashed  to  it  the  old  man  and  another 
who  had  now  nearly  gone  also.  We  other 
two  clung  to  the  long  end  and  also  to  the  raft. 

189 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

We  soon  found,  however,  that  they  were  not 
strong  enough  on  the  land  to  drag  two  helpless 
bodies  through  the  surf,  so  we  lashed  ourselves 
on  to  the  end  as  best  we  could,  and  jumped 
clear  of  the  boards  into  the  breakers.  Though 
we  were  washed  over  and  knocked  about  badly, 
we  were  able  to  find  bottom  somehow,  and  just 
held  on  tight  when  the  backwash  came  sweep- 
ing out.  Then  between  the  seas  we  could  shove 
and  help  a  little  with  what  strength  there  was 
left  in  us.  So  when  the  sea  began  to  rush  in 
again  we  were  all  huddled  together,  and  thrown 
up  nearer  to  the  shore,  and  at  last,  more  dead 
than  alive,  we  were  all  four  dragged  out  on  the 
beach. 

"Meanwhile  the  two  men  had  seen  the 
second  raft,  and  without  any  delay  rushed  off 
to  the  point  to  see  if  they  could  save  the  others. 
I  was  myself  just  able  to  follow  them,  but  that 
was  all.  Their  boat  was  small  and  her  oars 
were  useless.  It  was  absolutely  impossible  to 
launch  her  through  the  breakers,  so  as  to  try 
and  cut  off  the  raft  as  she  came  along.  Yes,  if 
they  had  thought  earlier  of  dragging  her  to  the 
other  side  of  the  island  they  might  have  got 
clear,  but  then  they  certainly  would  never  have 

190 


The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 

got  back  in  such  a  sea  and  wind.  All  we  could 
do  was  to  stand  there,  watching  the  other  raft. 
It  was  just  off  the  point  now.  We  could  plainly 
see  my  brother  and  my  sister's  husband,  and 
we  saw  that  they  could  see  us,  for  they  waved 
to  us  and  we  to  them.  But  we  knew  that  this 
time  it  was  really  a  last  good-bye.  Their  raft 
missed  the  point  by  a  hundred  yards,  and 
drifted  slowly  on  out  to  sea.  Again  and  again 
we  saw  them  waving.  Those  were  the  most 
awful  moments  of  my  life,  for  I  knew  then  that 
they  knew  they  were  lost  men.  So  they  passed 
out  of  sight  and  we  never  saw  them  again.  We 
started  at  once  to  make  bonfires  on  the  island 
to  attract  attention,  and,  indeed,  it  was  by 
that  they  learned  the  same  night  on  the  main- 
land that  help  was  needed  on  the  island.  But 
it  was  two  days  before  a  schooner  could  get  to 
us,  and  then,  though  they  searched  the  sea  for 
miles,  nothing  was  found  but  a  few  sorry  re- 
mains of  lumber  all  scattered  on  the  water. 
That  night,  while  we  were  warm  and  dry  and 
had  hot  food  and  shelter  for  our  own  bodies, 
our  minds  were  away  out  on  that  other  raft 
with  those  who  were  perishing.  There  was  no 
rest  or  sleep  for  us.    There  was   nothing  — 

191 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

nothing  —  nothing  which  we  would  not  have 
done  or  given  up  to  save  them. 

"  We  had  been  through  it  ourselves,  you  see, 
and  then  they  were  our  brothers.  To  think  of 
them  perishing  while  we  could  do  nothing 
nearly  drove  us  crazy.  The  keeper  of  the  light- 
house never  got  over  it.  He  had  to  resign  and 
leave.  He  could  n't  endure  the  constant  re- 
minders —  well,  they  might  have  seen  us 
earlier  in  the  day,  or  the  boat  might  have  been 
in  good  order,  or  they  might  have  thought  of 
carrying  her  to  the  lee  side  of  the  island,  or  if 
they  had  gone  out  they  might  have  lived 
through  the  night,  and  fetched  up  at  one  soli- 
tary rock  ten  miles  out  to  sea  which  has  a  light 
on  it  —  well,  they  might  have  done  anything. 
He'd  have  cut  off  his  right  hand  willingly  if  it 
would  have  done  any  good.  It  was  like  the 
curse  of  hell.  Yes,  Doctor,  we  miss  sometimes 
the  little  that  we  can  do,  because  we  don't 
look  out  for  chances." 

There  was  a  brief  silence  as  I  suddenly  re- 
membered that  we  were  standing  in  the  chapel 
and  that  "divine  service,"  so  called,  was  just 
over.  Revolving  in  my  mind  was  the  question 
whether  the  mysticism  of  worship  or  the  ex- 

192 


The  Luck  of  the  Little  Rover 

periences  of  life  offer  the  soundest  guide-marks 
to  the  highest  truths.  The  story  cut  so  much 
deeper  into  my  consciousness  than  the  exposi- 
tion to  which  we  had  just  listened. 

We  moved  outside  without  speaking,  and 
from  the  platform  my  eyes  at  once  fell  on  a 
schooner  that  was  lying  in  the  harbor. 

'What  did  you  do,  skipper,  when  the 
steamer  at  last  took  you  from  the  island?" 

'Why,  I  just  went  and  got  that  schooner 
on  credit,"  he  replied,  as  he  noticed  the  direc- 
tion in  which  I  was  looking.  '  You  can't  afford 
to  be  idle,  and  it's  no  good  to  keep  looking 
back,  is  it?" 


KOMMAK   THE  INNUK 

Tin:  brief  summer  of  Northern  Labrador  was 
already  drawing  to  its  close.  The  little  people 
who  alone  arc  able  to  wrest  a  living  from  its 
churlish  hospitality  had  just  finished  their 
trading  at  Fort  Chime  Post,  and  were  once 
more  preparing  to  wander  back  to  their  own 
districts  over  the  wastes  and  barrens  of  their 
rocky  northern  peninsula,  which  juts  out  be- 
tween Hudson  Bay  and  the  equally  frigid 
waters  of  the  North  Atlantic.  Being  a  purely 
predatory  people,  they  must  follow  everywhere 
the  animals  oil'  which  they  make  their  living, 
and  which  in  their  turn  are  but  little  less  won- 
derful in  their  ability  to  live  under  adverse 
circumstances. 

There  deer  and  oxen  can  graze  in  the  eternal 
night  of  winter  on  the  reluctant  shores  of  the 
Arctic  Ocean.  There  foxes  and  bears  can  eke 
out  a  living  on  the  shelterless,  lifeless  ice-floes 
which  ceaselessly  drive  to  and  fro  on  the  sul- 
len polar  sea.  There  one  may  see  seals  and 
whales,  warm-blooded  animals,  displaying  the 
wild  joie  de  vivrc  in  water  almost  solid  with  ice, 

194 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

and  a  temperature  of  forty  below  zero,  the 
former  giving  birth  to,  and  actually  suckling, 
their  babies  on  a  floating  ice-pan;  the  latter, 
in  the  open  sea  itself,  in  defiance  of  gigantic 
combers,  north  of  the  "roaring  forties."  Even 
the  birds  can  swim  well  enough  to  catch  a  fish 
in  fair  chase  under  water,  and  are  wise  enough 
and  fly  well  enough  to  come  thousands  of  miles 
every  year  to  nest  in  safety  in  No  Man's  Land, 
while  others  can  see  well  enough  to  drop  out  of 
the  sky,  as  they  range  over  a  rough  sea,  and 
catch  their  prey  unerringly  a  fathom  below 
water.  The  salmon  trout  can  be  happy  living 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  year  in  the  dark 
and  cold,  under  endless  feet  of  impenetrable 
ice,  quite  content  to  wait  till  the  brief  season  of 
open  water  shall  return  again.  There  is  no 
doubt  about  it,  nature  has  no  room  for  fools, 
north  of  '53.  The  incompetent  are  destroyed 
remorselessly,  and  the  bare  narration  of  the 
physical  achievements  and  endurance  of  the 
little  people  "away  down  North"  come  as 
refreshing  and  almost  inspiring  stimulants  to 
us  in  the  ennui  of  the  civilized  South. 

This  year,  1903,  the  hunt  had  been  a  good 
one.    The  bags  of  white  foxes  had  been  well 

195 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

filled.  The  "civil  "spring  had  enabled  oven  the 
most  distant  trappers  to  haul  or  boat  their 
packs  of  heavy  bear  and  deer  skins  safely  over 
the  long  hundreds  of  miles  to  the  nearesl  white 

man's  post.  There  had  been  DO  need  even  to 
cache  the  seal  and  walrus  hides.  Migrating 
geese  had  landed  in  myriads  on  the  Northern 

Coast. 

The  lit  tie  people  were  fat  as  well  as  rich,  and 
were  facing  the  approaching  winter  with  light 

hearts,  having  all  the  earthly  possessions  that 
a  man  sound  in  body  and  mind  really  needs 
for  existence.  Thev  had  found  the  Hudson's 
Wax  Company  post  well  stocked  in  food  and 
hunting  necessities.  The  world  lay  before  them, 
and  it  was  the  opportunity  of  a  lifetime  to 
break  new  ground  —  to  venture  out  into 
the  unknown  solitudes  and  virgin  wildernesses 
beyond,  where  game  would  be  both  more 
plentiful  and  less  sophisl  Icated.  Their  families 
were  multiplying;  there  were  more  mouths 
to  feed,  while  the  old  hunting-grounds  were 
becoming  overcrowded  and  the  food-supply 
depleted. 

Among  the  more  venturesome  spirits  there 
had  long  been  talk  of  some  islands  lying  out  in 

196 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

the  great  ocean  which  no  man  had  ever  hunted, 
and  of  the  possibility  of  getting  out  to  them. 
They  had  dreamed  of  blubber  in  puncheons  to 
be  had  for  the  asking,  of  fur  that  had  never 
seen  traps,  and  of  birds  which  almost  came 
when  you  called  them.  Now  if  ever  was  the 
chance  to  put  their  aspirations  to  the  test. 
But  "how"  is  still,  as  it  must  always  be,  the 
crucial  question  with  primitive  man.  They  had 
heard  more  in  detail,  from  the  white  man,  of  an 
island  out  at  sea,  away  below  the  horizon, 
where  no  Innuit  dwelt  and  where  no  man 
hunted.  Would  it  not  be  possible  to  reach  it 
over  the  winter  ice  with  dogs  and  sledges,  and 
to  store  up  enough  food  for  the  spring,  in  case 
they  should  be  unable  to  escape  to  the  main- 
land, until  nature  should  once  more  build  for 
them  the  mighty  bridge  of  ice?  With  their 
good  outfit  they  could  risk  the  chance  of  trad- 
ing fur  for  an  extra  year. 

Six  families  decided  that,  at  any  rate,  they 
would  make  the  attempt.  The  leaders  were 
named  Bakshauk,  a  skillful  young  hunter  of 
twenty,  and  Kommak,  one  of  the  most  re- 
sourceful and  successful  of  the  tribe.  It  was 
decided  that  they  should  all  start  together,  as 

197 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

soon  as  the  lengthening  days  made  it  possible 
to  carry  children  safely.  In  order  to  make  the 
passage  over  the  sea  as  short  as  possible,  they 
agreed  to  assemble  near  by  Harbor,  north  of 
the  big  Kovik  River,  and  then  set  out  west- 
ward, following  the  setting  sun,  till  they  might 
possibly  strike  land  again. 

The  five  hundred  Long,  trackless,  and  un- 
inhabited miles  which  lav  between  their  trad- 
ing-DOSt  and  the  chosen  rendezvous  would 
alone  seem  insurmountable  to  many  "family 
men"  under  the  circumstances.  To  these  little 
men,  however,  that  was  a  bagatelle.  Did  they 
not  travel  full  five  hundred  miles  each  way 
every  journey  from  their  hunting-grounds,  as 
they  carried  their  pelts  to  exchange  for  the 
white  man's  produce.  The  pleasures  of  a 
bargain  counter  are  beyond  the  horizon  of  the 
Eskimo  ladies1  horoscopes,  for  it  takes  practi- 
cally a  year  to  make  one  visil  to  the  shop. 

To  tell  the  truth,  the  thought  of  the  great 
venture  did  not  trouble  them.  Unlike  the 
mighty  Abraham  waiting  to  fare  forth  to  the 
Land  of  Promise,  they  were  bound  by  no  senti- 
ment to  any  particular  section  of  our  little 
sphere.  Time  also  is  no  object  to  the  Eskimo. 

198 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

If  the  true  Wanderlust  belongs  to  any  human 
beings,  these  Innuit,  or  "the  men,"  as  they  call 
themselves,  may  certainly  be  credited  with  it; 
though  it  is  a  physical  rather  than  a  spiritual 
stimulus  which  keeps  them  ever  "on  the  move." 

Bakshauk  means  "thinking"  and  Kammak 
a  "worm,"  and  long  before  this  venture  was 
over  they  needed  to  do  much  of  the  first  and  to 
realize  the  aptness  of  the  second  as  man's  most 
fitting  title.  Kamaksuak,  Kuenaksaut,  Novik, 
Ananak,  while  capable  hunters,  followed  rather 
than  led. 

Christmas  found  all  the  families  true  to  the 
tryst,  and  a  jolly  crowd  they  were,  camped  on 
the  edge  of  the  icy  ocean  with  a  good  harbor 
below  them.  With  powder  and  shot  and  good 
guns,  food  and  clothing  in  the  form  of  seals 
had  fairly  swum  into  their  cooking-pots,  and 
climbed  into  their  wardrobes.  Even  the  dogs 
were  fat  as  butter-balls.  Indeed,  the  only 
trouble  was  that  they  had  more  than  they 
could  carry,  and  yet  there  seemed  little  use  in 
cacheing  the  supplies  on  the  shore.  Once  again 
in  the  lives  of  Eskimo  the  old  paradox  came 
true,  —  they  could  eat  all  they  liked,  but,  alas, 
they  could  not. 

199 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

It  was  not  till  the  days  were  lengthening  in 
March  that  their  trained  senses  assured  them 
that  the  right  moment  had  come  to  make  a 
start.  Then,  without  a  vestige  of  fear,  men, 
women,  children,  dogs,  houses,  food,  and  even 
boats,  with  every  possible  piece  of  parapher- 
nalia stowed  on  the  sledges,  fared  forth  upon 
the  growling,  groaning,  heaving  pack  ice,  to 
cross  the  unknown  sea,  with  the  courage  of  a 
Columbus.  It  was  running  ice  over  which  they 
had  to  journey,  as  the  great  tides  of  Hudson 
Bay  never  allow  it  to  form  solid  to  the  land  and 
it  needed  no  small  amount  of  courage  and  skill 
to  keep  safely  in  the  right  direction.  The 
nights  are  still  long  and  cold  in  those  latitudes 
in  that  month,  but  they  had  no  chance  of  de- 
lay, for  only  nature  could  even  partially  bridge 
the  ocean  for  them.  Their  tiny  skin  boats,  now 
lashed  upon  their  sledges,  were  quite  unfit  for 
so  long  an  exodus  over  open  water.  The  Innuit 
are  not  troubled  by  trifles,  however,  nor  has 
the  speed  mania  yet  cursed  the  serenity  of  the 
children  of  the  Arctic  night.  If  the  day  brought 
them  on  their  journey,  they  thanked  God  and 
slept  well;  if  they  had  drifted  backward,  or, 
because  of  an  absolutely  resistless  storm,  had 

200 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

been  unable  to  stir  from  their  tiny  snow  huts, 
they  again  thanked  God,  and  slept  possibly 
even  better.  For  oddly  enough,  all  these  six 
families  held  the  inspiring  faith  of  Christen- 
dom. True,  none  of  them  had  ever  seen  or 
heard  a  preacher.  But  they  had  heard  from 
those  who  had  heard,  and,  as  the  sequel 
will  show,  they  certainly  deserved  that  high- 
est of  titles,  "real  Christian  men,"  better 
than  many  a  conventional  church-attendant 
or  professing  assenter  to  any  or  all  the 
creeds. 

Progress  was  not  rapid.  The  ice  was  rafted 
and  hummocky,  and  even  the  moon  was  chary 
of  her  beams,  though  her  "right  to  be  shining" 
is  at  that  time  so  generously  prolonged.  Yet 
there  were  no  mutineers  in  this  company 
of  adventurers.  The  Bakshauk  and  not  the 
Kommak  spirit  was  very  much  in  the  ascend- 
ant as  they  pursued,  day  after  day,  as  nearly 
as  they  could  judge,  the  direction  in  which 
the  sun  ought  to  have  set  if  it  had  been  there. 
On  the  fifth  day  for  a  brief  moment  after 
midday  it  most  graciously  showed  its  face, 
and  before  it  had  sunk  behind  the  icy  pinna- 
cles, the  keen  eyes  of  the  leaders  had  seen  the 

201 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

loom  of  blue  land  above  the  horizon.  All  was 
well;  there  was  no  reason  to  hurry. 

When  at  last  they  reached  the  foot  of  the 
cliffs,  the  ice  was  broken  and  heaved  up  by  the 
pressure  of  the  tides,  surged,  capsized,  and 
rafted,  till  the  mighty  barricades  formed  by 
the  debris  might  well  have  frightened  any 
human  being.  Hut  in  spite  of  it  everything  was 
safely  landed.  The  mi<>\y  being  .still  hard  and 
the  supply  generous,  in  a  few  hours  not  only 
were  good  houses  built  on  terrafirma,  and  every 
piece  of  property  safely  stowed,  but  the  men 
were  gathered  in  the  large  igloo  smoking  their 
pipes  around  their  oil  lamp  and  plotting  to  set 
about  exploring  the  island. 

It  is  known  on  the  chart  as  Mansfield  Island, 
and  was  discovered  by  Sir  Thomas  Button  in 
1612,  under  commission  from  Prince  Henry. 
It  has  very  rarely  seen  a  white  man  since  that 
day,  however.  It  is  about  sixty  miles  long  and 
fifteen  wide,  and  unlike  our  own  mainland  is 
built  up  of  whitish  rocks  in  gradually  rising 
high  terraces.  For  it  is  made  up  of  a  deposit  of 
Cambro-Silurian  limestone  in  the  great  basin 
of  crystalline  archaic  rocks  of  which  Labrador 
forms  one  side.    The  Eskimo  described  it  as 

202 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

"very  bad  for  skin  boots,"  and  indeed  they 
invented  and  used  wooden-bottomed  sabots 
while  they  were  on  the  island. 

In  summer  an  abundant  low  green  vegeta- 
tion covers  the  flat  terraces,  but  now  nothing 
was  visible  in  any  direction  but  snow,  ice, 
and  rocks.  ^Yhen  a  suitable  time  for  rest  had 
elapsed,  the  men,  dividing  themselves  into 
three  parties,  started  off  in  different  directions, 
to  survey  the  island  and  to  give  them  more 
chances  of  meeting  game.  Two  facts  very 
shortly  became  evident,  —  first,  there  were  no 
trees  whatever  on  the  island,  and  no  firewood 
except  such  as  might  drift  up  alongshore,  and 
that  was  now  well  buried  in  snow  and  ice; 
secondly,  there  were  no  deer,  which  was  a 
great  disappointment.  They  had  heard  that 
the  big  island  just  to  the  north  contained  any 
number  of  them,  and  their  skins,  sinews,  and 
fat,  to  say  nothing  of  the  meat,  are  what  so 
frequently  turn  the  balance  in  the  struggle  for 
existence  in  favor  of  a  primitive  people,  and 
enable  them  to  remain  permanently  in  any  dis- 
trict without  recourse  to  the  white  man  for  help. 

In  this  particular  instance,  however,  there 
were  many  other  things  to  make  up  the  de- 

203 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

ficiency.  Luck  befell  them  at  once  on  the  very 
first  day.  Kommak'a  dogs,  harnessed  into  his 
sledge,  caught  the  scent  of  a  bear  and  bolted 
with  the  sledge.  Before  Kominak  had  time  to 
Unlasfa  his  rifle,  the  hear  was  actually  on  the 

komatik,  the  dogs  having  divided  as  they  came 

upon  him  and  the  sledge  having  swept  him  off 
his  fed.  lie  soon  recovered  himself,  however, 
and  stood  up  on  his  hind  legs.  The  surprised 
Kominak  was  entirely  occupied  in  fending  off 

the  d«»Lr-.  who  were  rushing  and  biting  the  hind 
quarters  of  the  hear  a-  soon  as  ever  he  turned 
his  hack.  This  gave  Kommak  a  chance  to  get 
his  weapon  and  put  an  end  to  him. 

Bakshauk  had  had  the  same  experience, 
only  he  caught  sight  of  Bruin  on  the  level  ice, 
in  time  to  slip  his  dours,  who  gave  chase  and 
soon  brought  him  to  hay,  when  a  long  shot 
from  the  new  rifle  from  the  store  gave  the 
hunter  a  mountain  of  meat,  and  a  skin  Mich  as 
even  he  had  never  seen  before.  Alas,  however, 
he  lost  one  precious  dog  in  the  encounter. 
Alluk,  the  boldest  of  the  bold,  had  charged  the 
bear  in  front  and  been  caught  in  his  great  arms 
and  his  back  broken  with  the  hug  which  he 
received. 

20* 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

Bear  tracks  were,  in  fact,  very  plentiful,  and 
when  they  all  met  again  after  a  few  clays,  each 
party  had  as  much  meat,  fat,  and  skins  as  they 
cared  to  trouble  with  for  the  time. 

With  the  advent  of  open  water  the  salmon 
trout  in  the  river-mouths  were  very  plentiful, 
and  the  men  were  able  to  spear  many  seals  and 
walrus.  Such  was  the  abundance  of  supplies 
that  no  thought  of  returning  to  the  mainland 
even  to  trade  once  occurred  to  them.  They 
wore  kept  busy  drying  the  fish  for  the  winter 
for  themselves  and  their  dogs.  The  careful 
ones  scarcely  fired  a  cartridge,  husbanding 
them  for  future  need,  and  relying  on  their 
walrus-tusk  harpoons  and  bird  darts. 

Whatever  else  may  be  said  of  the  Eskimo, 
they  can  never  be  called  mean.  With  all  their 
physical  strength,  endurance,  and  marvelous 
ingenuity,  they  always  suggest  a  whole  race  in 
its  infancy;  but  this  childlikeness,  though  af- 
fording many  delightful  characteristics,  carries 
with  it  its  disadvantages.  Among  these  lat- 
ter, thoughtlessness  for  the  future  costs  them 
probably  most  dear. 

Some  of  this  particular  party  were  un- 
doubtedly more  prodigal  of  their  ammunition 

205 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

and  the  supplies  which  they  could  not  replace 
than  they  would  have  been  had  they  been 
capable  of  considering  a  little  what  the  womb 
of  the  future  might  hold  for  them.  However, 
for  the  time,  all  went  like  a  marriage  bell.  They 
had  plenty  of  time  and  good  spirits  for  play  as 
well  as  work;  which,  as  their  play  has  its  uses 
in  developing  the  extraordinary  accuracy  of 
hand  and  eye,  upon  which  their  very  lives  often 
depend,  was  of  peculiar  value  to  these  people, 
who,  as  the  sequel  proved,  had  to  fall  back 
upon  native  methods  and  arts.  These  very 
soon  become  lost  capacities  among  those  who 
arc  in  constant  contact  with  the  white  man. 

One  game  played  in  the  large  common  snow 
house  during  the  winter  consisted  in  suspend- 
ing an  ivory  ring  by  a  cord  from  the  roof,  with 
a  weight  attached  to  it  below.  It  was  then 
made  to  revolve  rapidly  by  twisting  the  string, 
and  the  competitor  won  who  first  threw  his 
dart  through  the  ring.  In  another  game  they 
made  the  model  of  a  deer  and  pierced  it  with 
holes,  each  of  which  had  a  number.  The  prize 
went  to  the  man  who  made  the  highest  score 
with  a  miniature  dart. 

Meanwhile  the  women  found  time  and  ma- 

206 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

terial  to  do  much  beautiful  skin  work,  and  the 
children  got  all  the  roughly  fashioned  but 
beautifully  dressed  dolls  which  their  hearts 
could  possibly  desire. 

With  the  melting  of  the  snow  a  great  dis- 
covery had  been  made.  While  searching  for 
firewood  along  the  northeast  coast,  they  came 
upon  the  bones  of  some  long-ago  wreck,  thrown 
high  up  on  the  strand,  to  which  place  of  safety 
it  had  evidently  been  carried  by  the  pressure  of 
the  heavy  ice-floes. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  the  excitement 
even  of  these  unemotional  people  as  they 
clambered  up  her  sides,  and  explored  the  ut- 
most recesses  of  her  hold  and  cabins.  The  finds 
were  not  numerous,  but  were  useful  all  the 
same.  They  discovered  a  good  cooking-boiler, 
some  plates  and  cups,  a  few  remnants  of 
cabin  fittings,  and  some  useful  pieces  of  iron 
from  the  rigging.  Who  the  unfortunates  had 
been  who  had  once  manned  her,  when  in 
youth  and  strength  she  had  sailed  the  seas  as  a 
dainty  craft  only  to  meet  her  sorry  fate  in  this 
desert  solitude,  did  not  trouble  our  friends. 
On  the  bluff  close  by  were  some  old  stones 
which  marked  the  spot  where  tents  had  once 

207 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

been  pitched,  and  there  were  rrmny  signs 
indicating  that  the  castaways  had  been  some 
time  on  the  island.  A  shrug  of  the  shoulders, 
"Ajaunamat,"  the  equivalent  of  "Kismet," 

.•ind  the  happy  little  crowd  returned  to  their 
friends,  bubbling  over  with  the  great  news,  like 
the  children  of  the  Arctic  which  they  always 
remain  with  their  new  trinkets. 

In  the  wreck,  too,  they  had  ;i  fresh  source  of 
fuel,    and    around    its   salt-SOaked    timbers,    ;is 

they  crackled  and  sputtered  with  the  exquisite 

play  of  colors  peculiar  to  such  wood,  the  little 
people  had  many  a  merry  hour  as  the  long 
nights  of  the  second  winter  .stole  over  them. 
Above  all,  the  wreck  was  a  place  where  they 
could  get  bits  of  iron  and  even  copper.  Every- 
thing >till  went  like  a  marriage  hell. 

When  the  sea-ice  was  frozen  far  out  from  the 
landwash  in  the  fall,  and  the  big  seals  were  no 
longer  able  to  get  near  the  land,  the  hay  seals 
in  plenty  kept  bobbing  holes  open  quite  far 
inshore,  and  it  was  nothing  but  fun,  with  such 
good  dogs  as  they  had,  to  scent  out  a  breath- 
ing-hole. These  seals  keep  a  chamber  under 
the  snow  which  collects  on  the  rough  ice,  and  a 
hole  up  from  the  water  beneath  leading  into  it. 

208 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

The  male  seals  scratch  away  with  their  fore 
flippers,  working  so  assiduously  that  when 
many  an  old  dog  seal  falls  a  victim  to  the 
Eskimo's  spear,  his  "hands"  are  worn  away 
right  down  to  the  flesh.  In  these  chambers  the 
young  are  born  and  the  family  sleep,  only 
coming  up  through  the  surface  in  summer 
when  the  sun  is  warm  enough  for  them  to  ven- 
ture to  bask  in  the  open  without  risk  of  freez- 
ing their  paws  and  flippers.  Through  an  un- 
broken covering  of  snow  a  good  dog  will  locate 
these  holes,  and  the  hunter  will  sit  motionless 
for  hours  under  a  shelter  built  of  ice  blocks, 
waiting  for  the  sound  of  breathing  or  scratch- 
ing to  assure  him  that  he  will  be  able  to  drive 
his  spear  straight  down  home  to  the  heart  or 
brain  of  the  quarry  which  he  cannot  see. 

Then  came  the  winter  ice  block  again,  and 
its  life  of  more  or  less  enforced  idleness,  when 
the  short  days  were  enlivened  by  games  of  ball 
near  the  igloo,  and  the  satisfaction  of  plenty 
of  food  and  warmth  around  the  oil  lamps  at 
night  —  till  the  lengthening  days  once  more 
tempted  the  hunter  to  wander  afield  after 
game. 

It  was  the  month  of  March  when  Bakshauk 

209 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

and  Kommak  were  far  out  on  the  driving  floe 
hunting  seals  and  walrus.  Bad  weather  had 
Bel    in  and  the  tee  was  getting  dangerously 

loose,  so  that  often  a  wide  lead  of  open  water 
would  appear,  to  make  it  very  hard  for  the 
men    to   keep    together.    Familiarity   here,   no 

!<■->  than  elsewhere,  leads  t"  contempt,  and 

the  men  took  chances  which  no  white  man 
would  dream  of  attempting.    One  day  fortune 

deserted  them. 

The  men  had  had  a  heavy  day  following  the 

trail  of  a  bear  along  the  standing  ice-edge,  where 
he  was  earning  a  somewhal  precarious  living 

on  seals,  which    were   scanty   enough    at    that. 

Suddenly  they  became  aware  of  a  movement 

in  the  mass  of  Bnow  on  which  they  were  stand- 

ing,  indicating  that  it  had  broken  loose  from 
the  shore  and  was  driving  oil'  seaward.  Shout- 
ing to  one  another,  they  at  once  beat  a  hasty 

retreat,  only  to  find  that  they  had  a  long  edge 
to  follow  to  reach  the  one  and  only  place 
where  there  was  a  possible  crossing  to  safety. 
By  the  time  they  had  reached  it,  even  that 
was  not  passable,  and  they  had  to  take  at  once 
to  loose  pieces.  By  the  best  of  good  fortune 
Kommak  and  two  others  crossed  to  the  land, 

210 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

but  Bakshauk,  who  as  usual  had  been  farthest 
off,  was  too  late,  and  all  the  others  could  pos- 
sibly do  was  to  call  good-bye  to  him  as  he 
slowly  drifted  from  their  sight  on  a  solitary 
ice-pan  from  which  there  was  now  no  chance 
whatever  of  escape. 

AVith  heavy  hearts  they  returned  to  the 
igloos  to  tell  the  sad  news,  for  Bakshauk  left  a 
wife  and  two  children  to  mourn  his  loss. 

Eskimo  hospitality  is  a  virtue  almost  un- 
known to  Christendom.  More  than  once,  as  in 
the  marvelous  story  of  the  rescue  of  the  crew  of 
the  Polaris,  have  Eskimo  hunters  accepted  the 
enormous  burden  of  supporting  the  helpless 
white  men  who  have  been  wrecked  and  must 
otherwise  perish.  A  consultation  of  the  little 
community  was  held  to  discuss  what  must  be 
done.  It  was  a  simple  question.  The  helpless 
must  be  cared  for;  it  was  merely  a  matter  of 
the  best  means  of  doing  it.  That,  too,  was 
soon  settled,  for  Kommak  generously  offered 
to  provide  for  them,  together  with  his  own 
family,  and  his  offer  was  accepted  just  as  nat- 
urally as  it  was  made. 

A  woman  is  quite  a  necessity  in  an  Eskimo 
household,  and  though  not  as  a  rule  contribut- 

211 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

mg  to  the  actual  game-killing,  once  it  is  killed, 
it  is  she  who  turns  it  into  everything  which  is 
useful.  Among  the  Innuit  a  plurality  of  wives 
has  been  the  custom  for  all  time.  The  position 
of  a  husbandless  woman  is  anomalous  in  a 
community  where  the  accommodation  for  pro- 
tection for  them  is  scarcely  possible,  in  their 
aecessaiily  open  tents  and  snow  houses.  A 
very  strong  apology  has  been  made  for  the 
custom  by  all  who  have  visited  them,  and  even 
l>y  the  Moravian  missionaries  it  has  been  ad- 
mitted that  a  dilemma  arises  when  a  hitherto 
heathen  Eskimo  for  the  firsl  time  learns  of  the 

custom  of  Christendom. 

Kommak  had  found  himself  in  just  such  a 
dilemma  a  few  years  previous  to  the  time  of 
their  present  adventure,  and  he  had  decided 
that  he  could  not  abandon  his  second  wife  with 
her  one  child,  any  more  than  now  he  could 
abandon  this  defenseless  widow.  Thus  his 
burden  became  no  light  one.  He  must  build 
bigger  houses,  kill  more  food,  and,  until  such  a 
time  as  his  sons  should  grow  up,  he  must, 
sinulc-handed,  support  three  women  and  six 
children.  This  task  he  most  nobly  undertook 
and  successfully  accomplished. 

212 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

Since  the  people  had  been  unable  to  trans- 
port their  kayaks  on  their  long  emigration, 
they  had  been  seriously  handicapped  in  killing 
seals  in  open  water,  but  out  of  the  timbers  of 
the  old  wreck  and  some  pieces  of  driftwood 
Kommak  succeeded  in  building  one,  while  with 
his  rifle  he  secured  enough  seals  to  keep  it  cov- 
ered. Indeed,  in  this  way  his  household  was 
always  better  provided  for  than  the  others,  in 
spite  of  the  number  of  mouths  he  had  to  fill. 
Moreover,  with  far  greater  foresight  than  the 
rest  showed,  he  at  once  renewed  from  the  old 
wreck  the  weapons  with  which,  before  he  ever 
saw  a  white  man's  store,  he  had  been  trained 
to  hunt  for  a  livelihood.  His  bow  and  arrows 
lie  on  the  table  beside  me  as  I  write.  They  are 
shaped  out  of  drift  juniper  wood,  the  bow, 
skillfully  strengthened  by  the  twisted  sinews 
from  the  seal  back,  will  now  shoot  its  arrows 
a  hundred  yards  with  ease.  The  arrows  are 
tipped  with  ivory  from  walrus  tusks,  or  with 
pieces  of  iron  hammered  out  from  the  bolts  and 
nails  of  the  wreck.  The  barbed  tips  are  at- 
tached to  the  shaft  by  copper  rivets,  also  made 
from  some  of  the  old  fastenings  that  in  their 
journey  from  the  unknown  had  enabled  the 

213 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

vessel  once  to  sail  so  gayly  across  the  great 
ocean,  as  she  came  to  cast  herself  away  where 
she  might  save  the  lives  of  so  many.  Kom- 
mak  wasted  do  powder  on  ducks  when  they 
crowded  into  the  open  "swatches"  (ponds  of 
water  left  in  the  floe  ice),  or  when  they  were 
fat  and  lazy  in  the  summer  time.  His  duck 
dart  is  really  a  sportman's  weapon. 

The  hunter  who  can  make  a  gQod  bag  with 
such  an  implement  has  a  real  claim  to  the  title 

of  a  "crack  shot."  It  Is  a  simple  piece  of  drift 

juniper,  with  a  sharpened  holt  in  one  end,  while 
from  the  shaft  there  project,  at  angles  <>f  forty- 
five  degrees,  three  barbed  pieces  of  wood.  If, 
when  he  flung  his  dart,  he  failed  to  pierce  the 
hack  of  the  duck,  the  side  pieces  entangled  the 
wings  or  neck. 

This  sport  was  the  great  joy  of  Semijak, 
Kommak's  oldest  boy.  .More  than  once  he 
would  aim  well  enough  to  get  two  ducks  at 
one  throw,  and  soon  he  could  almost  keep  the 
family  in  fresh  meat.   It  was  the  same  with  the 

lis  in  winter.  With  his  keen  ears  he  could 
hear  a  seal  under  the  ice,  scratching  to  keep 
his  bobbing-hole  open,  long  before  most  lads, 
while  their  leading  dog  Kopcak  could  always 

214 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

scent  it  in  time  to  warn  them  to  creep  quietly 
up  to  leeward.  Then  as  a  rule  it  was  a  short 
shrift  for  the  seal,  as  the  youthful  hunter  drove 
his  long  spear  through  its  head,  upturned  to 
breathe.  He  could  detach  the  handle  from  the 
barb  so  quickly  that  he  could  generally  get  a 
hitch  around  it,  and  fling  the  pole  crosswise  to 
help  him  when  the  strain  came.  More  than 
once,  however,  he  had  a  big  fight  to  hold  the 
larger  seals  till  he  could  drown  them,  or  till, 
chopping  down  through  the  ice  with  a  chisel 
which  was  fixed  in  the  other  end  of  his  spear, 
he  could  see  to  dispatch  them  with  the  point 
which  was  left  when  the  barb  was  detached. 

So  it  was  that  as  year  after  year  slipped  by, 
while  at  first  all  had  had  plenty,  eventually  a 
small  spirit  of  jealousy  arose,  one  having  more 
than  another.  Moreover,  Kuenaksaut,  the  old- 
est of  the  party,  died,  and  soon  after  him 
his  good  wife.  This  left  only  an  ill-balanced 
son,  Nannuk,  to  look  after  the  family.  The 
discord  became  intensified,  and,  factions  hav- 
ing formed,  the  families  divided,  two  of  them 
moving  permanently  to  the  opposite  end  of 
the  island. 

Their  ammunition  had  now  given  out,  and 

215 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

Kommak,  hearing  of  their  straits,  with  true 
Eskimo  spirit,  sent  over  some  of  his  own 
dwindling  stock.  The  roots  of  jealousy  are 
deep,  however,  and  its  fruits  are  always  bitter. 
As  is  so  often  the  case  with  the  little  people,  the 
girls  are  not  so  successfully  reared  as  the  boys, 
and  already  there  were  young  men  unable  to 
get  wives.  This  meant  a  very  miserable  home, 
with  no  one  to  sew  and  cook. 

Nowhere  was  this  lack  more  felt  than  in 
Nannuk's  igloo,  but  that  very  poverty  and 
meanness  made  the  man  a  Less  eligible  suitor, 
and  he  had  to  see  the  possible  brides  accepting 
the  hands  and  hearts  of  younger  rivals,  while 
he  dragged  on  in  enforced  celibacy. 

Another  year  went  bv,  and  Kommak's 
generous  help  to  his  poor  and  disgruntled 
neighbors  had  to  cease.  His  own  supplies  had 
run  out,  and  at  last  the  time  came  when  even 
he  could  no  longer  get  seals  enough  to  keep 
his  boat  covered,  and  that  again  made  it  still 
harder  to  get  the  seals,  and  so  a  vicious  circle 
was  established. 

At  last  things  came  to  a  crisis.  Word  came 
over  that  Nannuk  had  determined  to  murder 
Kommak,  and  take  the  second  wife  by  force 

216 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

unless  he  voluntarily  relinquished  her.  At  first 
no  attention  was  paid  to  what  was  considered  a 
mere  idle  threat.  But  one  day,  while  hunting 
along  the  shore,  the  two  men  met,  an  alterca- 
tion ensued,  and  the  threat  was  made  openly. 
Well  able  to  take  care  of  himself,  Kommak 
thought  little  of  it  till  one  day  he  found  that  in 
his  absence  Nannuk  had  visited  his  igloo  and 
actually  threatened  his  wife  with  violence. 
Thus  it  became  difficult  for  him  to  go  far  from 
the  house;  one  of  the  men  must  always  remain 
at  home.  Kommak  was  far  too  gentle  to  return 
threats  with  violence,  which  he  recognized 
called  more  for  pity,  and  so,  though  ten  years 
had  elapsed  since  his  coming  to  the  island  of 
his  adoption,  he  decided  to  set  out  again,  and 
both  families  on  the  west  side  decided  that 
they  would  leave  also. 

Had  the  group  on  the  other  side  of  the  island 
been  willing  to  accompany  them,  it  would  have 
been  hard  for  them  to  do  so.  With  the  short- 
age of  food  for  themselves  in  midwinter,  it 
had  been  impossible  to  secure  food  for  their 
dogs,  and  they  had  been  obliged  to  kill,  and  as 
a  matter  of  fact  had  eaten,  all  their  teams  dur- 
ing the  last  two  or  three  hard  seasons. 

217 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

Though  no  deer  live  on  the  island,  Kommak, 
when  hunting  on  the  northwest  shore,  had  had 
the  good  fortune  to  strike  the  trails  of  two 
coming  right  in  over  the  frozen  sea  almost 
to  their  door.  With  their  trusty  hows  and 
arrows,  he  and  his  sou  soon  accounted  for  both 

of  them;  one  of  the  crude  but  truly  marvelous 
arrows,  quivering  in   the   hearl   of  the  stag, 

brought  him  down  almost  in  his  track-. 

These  deer  seemed  messengers  from  a  land  of 
promise  Still  farther   to   the   north  and  west, 

telling  the  doubting  hunters   the  direction  in 

which  to  travel.  Kommak  at  once  accepted  the 
omen,  and  chose  Netsialiul  (our  April),  the 
moon  when  the  jar  seals  breed,  as  the  time  to 
set  out. 

Returning  to  the  settlement  the  matter  was 
keenly  debated  in  the  large  igloo  —  whether  it 
would  be  better  to  return  the  way  they  had 
come  or  to  make  a  still  larger  venture  for  the 
land  which  thev  had  never  found.  Kamaksuak 

t/ 

was  at  first  for  agreeing  with  Kommak. 

'There  was  little  for  us  around  the  Koit- 
saut.  There  are  plenty  who  fish  the  Kovik 
River.  Illukotat  is  hunted  by  many.  What 
Kommak  says  seems  wise." 

218 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

But  Kuanak  was  resolute  to  go  no  farther. 
"We  did  not  starve  at  Sugluk.  Birds  were  in 
plenty  at  Nuivuk.  The  rivers  around  Kingua 
have  many  trout.  Who  can  say  where  the  land 
of  these  tuktu  [deer]  may  be?  The  ice  is  now 
moving  to  the  eastward.  The  winds  are  com- 
ing westerly.  If  I  cannot  remain  here  I  shall 
return  the  way  I  came." 

"We  have  all  heard  of  the  big  island  where 
deer  are  plentiful,"  urged  Kommak.  "We 
thought  to  reach  it  when  we  started  from  the 
Icy  River.  This  is  a  new  land  at  which  we 
stopped,  and  not  the  land  we  sought.  It  was  to 
reach  a  land  full  of  deer  that  we  started.  Shall 
we,  Innuit,  be  beaten,  and  called  Kulluk  [no- 
good  men]  by  our  folk?  For  my  part  I  will  not 
return  till  I  have  tried  again  to  find  the  land. 
Surely  it  cannot  be  far  away.  The  deer  we 
killed  were  fat,  and  yet  they  left  their  land.  It 
must  be  overflowing.  For  my  part  I  start 
over  the  western  ocean  to  go  north  again." 

The  oil  lamps  had  to  be  replenished  many 
times  before  the  matter  was  settled,  and  it  was 
the  early  hours  of  morning  before  Kommak 
realized  that  he  must  make  his  pilgrimage 
alone.   Kamaksuak's  courage  failed  him  at  the 

219 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

last,  while  Novik  and  Ananak  said:  "It  is  back 
to  our  own  people  we  go.  If  we  are  lost  on  the 
way  you  shall  one  day  tell  of  us;  but  if  you 
arc  lost  we  will  tell.  Surely,  if  we  all  go  to- 
gether there  will  be  no  one  to  hear  the  news." 
And  so  it  happened  that  Kommak  set  out 
alone. 

There  wa>  one  ceremony  yet  to  l>e  performed 
before  leaving.  The  kettles,  pots,  and  cups 

borrowed  from  the  wreck  were  DOl  their  prop- 
erty, hut   the  white  man's.    They  felt  entitled 

to  the  old  bits  of  iron,  copper,  and  timber  from 
the  useless  wreck,  but  the  spirits  of  the  white 
men  might  need  their  private  property.  Had 
they  not  put  old  Kuenaksaut's  belongings 
within  the  stones  which  guarded  his  body 
from  the  wolves  and  foxes,  in  order  that  their 
spirits  might  serve  his  spirit  in  the  land  of 
shadow's?  Had  not  Kommak  himself,  Chris- 
tian though  he  was,  left  there  one  of  his  own 
last  precious  sticks  of  tobacco,  seeing  that  the 
old  man  had  none?  Otherwise  how  could  his 
old  friend  obtain  in  the  place  of  bliss  that 
pleasure  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  every  Eskimo? 
And  now  what  good  luck  could  they  expect  to 
meet  with  if  they  were  to  set  out  on  their  journey 

220 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

with  the  proceeds  of  robbery  among  their  pos- 
sessions? 

As  on  the  previous  venture  so  many  years 
before,  day  after  day  they  kept  on,  sometimes 
gaining  and  sometimes  losing  ground,  but  al- 
ways pushing  ahead  again  when  the  storm  winds 
made  it  possible,  with  the  same  optimism  and 
sangfroid,  ever  toward  the  setting  sun.  Once 
more,  on  the  fifth  day  out  a  clear  evening  gave 
these  veritable  crusaders  a  glimpse  of  land  ahead 
to  the  west,  and  with  good  heart  they  started 
next  morning  to  push  toward  it.  Like  Moses  of 
old,  however,  they  were  destined  only  once  to 
see  the  Land  of  Promise.  A  whole  succession  of 
sou 'westerly  gales  set  in;  the  ice-floe,  instead  of 
merely  drifting  a  mile  or  two  a  day,  simply 
rushed  before  them,  and  when  after  another 
five  days  the  travelers  found  that  they  were 
still  losing  ground,  and  were  farther  east  than 
when  they  had  started,  they  most  wisely  de- 
cided to  abandon  the  attempt. 

They  realized  that  they  were  away  north  of 
their  old  island  of  Mansfield,  but  had  little 
knowledge  of  anything  beyond  that.  They 
had,  indeed,  heard  of  an  island,  north  of 
Wolstenholme,  in  which  deer,  at  least,  were 

221 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

plentiful,  but  it  would  !><•  futile  to  spend  energy 
in  trying  to  travel  when  jus!  as  likely  as  not 
they  were  moving  in  the  opposite  direction  to 
that  in  which  they  intended  to  go.  So  they  de- 
cided simply  to  live  on  the  floe  and  await 
event  s. 

Fori  line  favored  them.  The  winds  held  west- 
erly with  the  current  most  of  the  time.  The  ice 
remained  in  large  pans,  and  life  was  (airly  com- 
fortable, as  the  snow  houses  were  n<>t  broken 
l>y  the  jarring  and  capsizing  of  the  rafts  —  a 
common  experience  when  the  immense  pres- 
sure gathered  by  the  winds  over  a  large  ice- 
field opposes  the  stream  of  ice  running  with  a 
tide. 

Tegedlulgul  (May),  when  the  square-flipper 
ha-;  bis  young,  was  now  upon  them.  Days  were 
warm  and  nights  short,  and  the  ice  was  get- 
ting  much  looser.  Great  openings  of  water  ap- 
peared between  the  pans,  and  it  became  much 
harder  to  uret  near  enough  to  seals  and  hirds  to 
use  their  simple  weapons  with  effect.  Food  was 
very  scarce  and,  indeed,  all  hands  were  on  short 
rations  when  at  last  land  loomed  up  once  more 
ahead.  This  time  it  seemed  to  run  all  along  the 
northern  horizon,  and  at  one  time  it  appeared 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

to  he  almost  certain  that  they  would  he  able 
to  reach  it,  as  a  long  jam  of  ice  formed  a  bridge 
from  their  floe  to  the  land. 

Without  a  moment's  delay  all  movable  goods 
were  transferred  to  the  sledges,  and  a  real  dash 
was  made  for  the  land,  which  was  high  and 
rugged  (it  was  evidently  Nottingham  Island). 
They  soon  found  that  the  bridge  on  which  they 
were  traveling  was  only  held  against  the  island 
by  the  projection  of  a  cape  in  a  southeast 
direction.  As  they  drew  near,  they  could  make 
out  that  it  was  the  end  of  the  land,  and  thus 
everything  depended  upon  the  speed  which 
they  could  make  while  the  wind  continued  to 
hold  the  ice  against  the  cliffs. 

The  sprint  for  the  land  of  the  heavily  bur- 
dened little  company  might  have  served  as  an 
illustration  of  a  mixed  obstacle  race  in  "Alice 
in  Wonderland."  Yet  at  night  they  seemed  not 
one  whit  nearer  their  goal,  and  the  wind,  which 
was  their  sole  dependence,  fell  away  at  sun- 
down. Accustomed  to  the  flat  island,  and  the 
land  around  WTolstenholme,  they  had  mis- 
judged the  high  cliffs  of  Nottingham  Island  as 
being  nearer  than  they  really  were.  Yet,  by  the 
light  of  the  young  moon,  when  they  realized 

223 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

that  once  more  they  were  doomed  to  dis- 
appointment, they  built  their  snow  houses,  and, 
turning  in,  slept  just  as  soundly  as  if  they  had 
really  been  once  more  on  terra  Jlrma.  As  they 
were  out  of  sight  of  land  again  l>y  morning, 
they  had  almost  forgotten  that  they  had  ever 
Been  it. 

It  became  harder  and  Still  harder  every  day 
to  secure  food,  and  at  last  it  was  no  longer 
possible  to  save  their  dogs.  One  after  another 
they  met  the  fate  of  Nannuk's  team  and  were 
killed  and  eaten,  and  their  skins  used  for  much- 
needed  repairs  to  hoots  and  clothing.  By  the 
middle  of  May  only  the  faithful  Kopeak  was 
left,  and  he  was  a  mere  shadow  of  his  former 
self,  though  by  that  time  he  combined  in  his 
own  person  the  best  part  of  the  entire  team 
which  had  left  the  island  two  months  previ- 
ously.  Now  for  a  time  blank  starvation  faced 
the  whole  company.  Spare  pieces  of  skin  from 
gloves  and  boots  had  to  be  soaked  and  eaten, 
in  order  to  maintain  strength  enough  to  con- 
tinue the  unequal  struggle. 

The  ice  got  looser  and  looser  each  day,  and 
still  no  land  came  in  sight.  Kommak  had 
rightly  guessed  that  the  western  entrance  to 

224 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

Hudson  Bay  Straits  had  been  passed,  and  that 
they  were  rapidly  driving  out  into  the  ocean  be- 
yond, where  all  must  inevitably  be  lost.  Birds 
were  beginning  to  pass  north  in  greater  num- 
bers, and  seals  were  seen  continually,  but  each 
day  it  became  harder  to  get  near  any  game. 
Occasionally  a  walrus  poked  his  nose  out  and 
blinked  at  them,  but  without  a  kayak  it  was 
impossible  to  secure  him.  It  would  almost  have 
been  better  if  they  had  not  seen  any. 

June  weather  was  upon  them  now,  and  there 
was  daylight  day  and  night.  The  weather  was 
warm,  really  hot,  indeed,  with  the  reflection 
from  the  ice  and  the  continual  sunshine.  But 
the  snow  houses  would  no  longer  hold  together, 
so  that  they  had  no  shelter  in  bad  weather, 
even  for  the  children.  Yet  at  last,  when  the 
tide  of  fortune  set  in  their  direction,  it  was  a 
spell  of  this  very  bad  weather  which  eventu- 
ally saved  their  lives. 

The  wind  had  chopped  round  to  the  north- 
east, and  the  moisture-laden  warm  air  from 
over  the  Atlantic,  chilled  as  it  passed  over  the 
frigid  polar  stream  which  sweeps  into  the 
Straits  out  of  Fox  Channel,  had  for  several 
days  made  an  impenetrable  fog.    It  was  so 

225 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

thick  that  even  the  rain  which  fell  at  night 
did  not  dispel  it,  nor  did  the  fury  of  the  high 
wind  have  any  effect  upon  it.  Before  it  the 
westward  trend  of  the  ice  was  checked  even  on 

the  ebb  tides,  and  when  the  flood  tide  hanked 

up  the  water,  whole  fields  were  driven  to  the 
east  and  south. 

[n  spite  of  the  danger  of  wandering  from  the 

others  in  the  fog,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 

whole  floe  would  sometimes  turn  around  on 
the  current  and  bo  make  bearings  useless  (for 
when  you  went  westerlyto  hunt  in  the  morn- 
ing,  you  might,  just  as  likely  as  not,  have  to  go 
on  walking  in  a  westerly  direction  to  get  l>aek 
again)  — ■  in  spite  of  all  these1  drawbacks,  hunt 
they  must, even  if  it  might  be  supposed  that  to 
sec  game  in  such  a  fog  was  out  of  the  question. 
Many  a  man  from  civilization  would  have 
accepted  the  apparently  inevitable,  and,  at 
least  temporarily,  have  abandoned  the  strug- 
gle. Had  Kommak  not  been  the  Innuk, — 
the  proud  title  they  claim,  —  that  is,  the  man, 
he  was,  all  must  have  undoubtedly  perished. 
Now  once  more  that  which  had  seemed  to  be 
against  him  turned  out  to  be  his  best  friend. 
As  he  crept  along  the  rough  ice  in  the  thick  fog, 

2  26 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

lie  almost  stumbled  over  a  large  polar  bear. 
The  surprise  was  mutual,  and  almost  equal, 
but  Kommak  was  the  quicker  of  action  and  in 
an  instant  one  of  his  nine  arrows,  all  he  had 
left,  was  actually  quivering  in  the  heart  of  the 
bear.  It  had  really  transfixed  the  one  spot 
which  could  have  killed  the  animal  quickly 
enough  to  prevent  his  escape  into  the  water, 
where,  of  course,  he  would  have  been  lost. 

No  second  shot  was  needed.  Kommak  found 
himself  literally  sitting  on  a  veritable  moun- 
tain of  fresh  food,  which  would  last  at  least  as 
long  as  the  ice  on  which  they  were  floating.  A 
little  later,  when  he  stumbled  into  camp  with 
as  large  a  chunk  of  meat  as  he  could  carry,  his 
was  a  joy  which  no  purchased  trinket  could 
afford. 

Meanwhile  he  fully  appreciated  the  fact  that 
nature  was  giving  them  what  would  probably 
be  the  last  chance  by  driving  them  to  the 
southeast.  The  whole  company  was  hurrying 
in  that  direction  with  all  the  little  strength 
which  they  had  left  them.  Owing  to  the  new 
meat-supply  they  were  able  to  push  ahead  con- 
siderably the  faster.  Moreover,  they  were  wise 
enough  to  abandon,  not  only  the  heavy  skins, 

227 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

hut  every  other  possession  which  they  could 
possibly  do  without.  The  persistence  of  the  fog 
and  wind  was  more  than  remarkable,  it  became 
almost  uncanny,  but  still  they  pushed  on  into 
the  gloom,  along  a  road  which  apparently  led 
nowhere.  Suddenly,  without  a  minute's  warn- 
ing, round  chopped  the  wind  to  the  wot  ward, 
and  in  a  few  moments  not  a  vestige  of  fog 
was  left,  and  right  under  the  lee  of  the  ice  on 
which  they  were  traveling  was  a  group  of  three 
islands.  They  had  passed  close  along  beside 
them  without  seeing  them  at  all. 

Had  the  fog  lasted  a  few  hours  more,  they 
would  have  had  scarcely  any  chance  whatever 
of  making  a  landing.  As  events  turned  out, 
they  were  soon  clambering  up  the  rocks  of  an 
island  about  nine  miles  long,  one  of  a  group 
called  Digg's  Islands,  which  Kommak  at  once 
recognized  as  lying  out  from  Cape  Wolsten- 
holme  about  twelve  or  thirteen  miles. 

This  passage  is  so  often  solid  with  ice  that  a 
continual  watch  was  kept  for  a  chance  to  cross 
to  the  mainland.  The  winter  ice,  however,  had 
broken  up  a  few  days  previously,  and  no  solid 
jam  of  drift  ever  formed  again  to  make  the 
attempt  to  cross  feasible.    There  was  nothing 

228 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

to  do  but  make  the  best  of  it  for  the  time.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  they  were  but  little  better  off 
than  before.  No  human  being  ever  visited  the 
island,  and  there  were  no  trees  on  it;  though 
they  had  plenty  of  moss  for  tinder  with  which 
to  make  fire  with  their  fire-stones,  there  was 
practically  no  fuel  obtainable.  Every  bit  of 
driftwood  was  carefully  collected  by  the  women 
and  carried  in  their  hoods  to  the  camp,  while 
the  arrows,  spears,  and  darts  were  carefully 
repaired. 

Some  of  the  many  birds  arriving  from  the 
south  were  killed  with  stones,  and  some  few 
near  the  shore  with  darts.  Arrows  were  al- 
most too  valuable  to  risk,  except  at  birds 
resting  on  the  land.  By  means  of  splicing  with 
thongs,  a  couple  of  trout-spears  were  obtained, 
and  a  sparkling  rock  dangled  a  fathom  under 
water  through  the  ice  readily  attracted  the 
newly  arrived  salmon  trout,  while  the  deft 
hands  of  Kommak  and  Semijak  speared  many 
of  these  shining  beauties.  The  eggs  of  gulls 
nesting  in  the  faces  of  the  cliffs  were  also 
secured,  and  it  was  July  before  the  luxury  of 
contrast  allowed  the  shadow  of  the  future 
again  to  stir  them  to  serious  efforts  to  reach 

229 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

the  land.  In  order  to  secure  that  end,  seals 
were  the  one  essential.  They  must  have  skins 
to  cover  a  boat,  l)iit  as  they  had  nothing  in 
which  to  hunt  the  animals,  thai  seemed  almost 
out  of  the  question. 

One  day,  however,  a  large  Ice-pan  driving 
through  the  Straits  stranded  in  a  cove  on  the 

smith   side  t>f  the  island,   and    Kommak,   who 

was  always  prowling  round  the  Landwash  in 
search  of  game,  promptly  spied  it.  Seals, 
though  apparently  asleep,  have  a  habit  of 
putting  up  their  heads  and  spying  around  for 
danger.  It  was  an  easy  matter  to  gel  to  the 
ice-edge  unseen,  l>ut  the  seal  was  on  the  outer 
edge,  and  had  a  full  view  of  anything  approach- 
ing over  the  white  ire.  Lying  flat  on  his  face, 
Kommak  proceeded  to  crawl  and  wriggle  over 
the  surface  so  long  as  the  seal's  head  was 
down,  while  the  very  instant  that  it  raised  it 
up,  he  lay  still  and  called  like  a  seal  blowing 
after  a  dive,  <v  Poo-yee,  poo-ye<  .  '  {Poo-ij><  is 
Eskimo  for  seal.)  With  its  fears  allayed,  the 
seal  would  once  more  stretch  itself  out,  and 
then  after  a  few  minutes  would  rise  up  and 
watch  the  approaching  man.  Kommak  was 
himself  clothed  in  sealskin  from  head  to  foot, 

.  ;o 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

and  he  took  good  care  to  wriggle  both  legs 
together  like  a  tail,  and,  indeed,  waved  them 
while  the  seal  was  looking  on  —  as  that  form 
of  salutation  is  very  acceptable  to  seals.  As 
he  got  nearer,  he  could  see  that  the  animal 
was  almost  on  the  ice-edge,  and  even  a  mortal 
wound  might  leave  it  able  to  slip  off  into  the 
water  and  sink  before  he  could  seize  it.  With 
infinite  patience  he  worked  round  down  wind, 
till  at  last  he  was  actually  between  his  victim 
and  its  only  chance  of  escape;  and  then  once 
more  his  trusty  arrow  did  its  duty.  The  ac- 
quisition was  only  a  small  one,  but  it  bred 
hope  in  the  heart  of  so  confirmed  an  optimist, 
and  he  and  the  women  at  once  set  to  work  to 
make  a  frame  for  an  oomiak.  The  oomiak,  or 
woman  boat,  is  a  perfectly  flat-bottomed  craft, 
with  square  corners  and  ends,  and  looks  ex- 
actly like  a  magnified  English  pie-dish,  cut  to 
size,  according  to  the  amount  to  be  floated. 
This  one  was  seventeen  feet  by  eleven.  The 
remaining  dog-traces,  and  every  square  inch  of 
skin,  including  the  dart-line,  had  to  be  split 
for  thongs  to  fasten  the  little  pieces  of  wood 
together.  Still,  something  was  accomplished, 
and  bit  by  bit  the  framework  of  as  wonderful  a 

231 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

craft  as  ever  floated  grow,  as  it  were,  roll  by 
cell,  just  as  a  vegetable  does.  And  then  they 
waited  for  more  "skin."  The  ice  that  came 
to  the  shore  brought  no  more  seals  with  it, 
and  there  was  no  good  foreshore  for  basking 
on.  At  last,  however,  as  in  the  case  of  Mr. 
Micawber,  something  turned  up.  Kommak 
saw  a  square-flipper  seal  climb  out  on  a  rock  a 
few  yards  from  the  shore.  With  his  harpoon 
and  line,  his  inseparable  companions,  he  clam- 
bered along  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  until  he  came 
near  the  spot.  Sure  enough,  an  old  bulk  almost 
as  heavy  ;i>  a  real  bull,  wa^  dozing  on  the  rock. 

He  was  just  out  of  range,  but  Kommak  enticed 
him  near  enough  to  harpoon  him  and  hauled 
him  ashore  after  a  hard  fight. 

The  two  skins  were  not  sufficient,  however, 
to  cover  any  boat  large  enough  to  float  all  the 
party,  and  nothing  was  further  from  Kom- 
mak's  mind  than  to  desert  some  of  them  even 
temporarily  while  he  crossed  to  look  for  help 
from  the  mainland.  Well  he  knew  that  those 
left  behind  would  perish  without  him  to  fend 
for  them. 

Another  season  of  enforced  waiting,  and  at 
last  help  came  from  a  very  unexpected  quarter. 

232 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

The  wife  of  Bakshauk,  searching  for  driftwood, 
saw  something  dark  rolling  in  the  surf.  Gath- 
ering the  other  women,  she  waded  out  into 
the  water,  and  together  they  were  able  to  drag 
ashore  the  body  of  a  large  walrus  half -eaten 
by  bears.  When  the  skin  was  removed  and 
dragged  to  camp,  it  was  found  to  be  just  half 
large  enough  to  finish  covering  the  oomiak. 
Kommak  was  as  fortunate  in  the  resourceful- 
ness of  his  women  as  he  was  in  his  own,  and  be- 
fore night  they  had  so  cleverly  split  the  piece 
of  skin  they  had  recovered  that  all  agreed  that 
it  would  be  better  to  risk  a  crossing  now — as 
August  had  already  come  in  —  than  to  delay 
any  longer  on  the  island. 

My  friend  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  fac- 
tor at  the  post  newly  established  at  Cape 
Wolstenholme,  was  out  hunting  geese  down 
near  the  landwash  at  low  water  one  Saturday 
evening  when  he  became  aware  of  a  strange 
object  approaching  the  land.  With  his  pocket 
telescope  he  soon  made  it  out  to  be  an  oomiak 
packed  as  full  as  it  would  hold  of  people. 
Some  hours  had  gone  by,  and  the  tide  was 
nearly  full  before  he  again  thought  of  the 

233 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

approaching  Eskimo,  and  to  his  surprise  he 
found  that  they  were  keeping  offshore,  evi- 
dently in  doubt  as  to  what  to  do.  Going  down 
to  the  water,  he  beckoned  them  to  approach, 
giving  them  to  understand  that  they  were  fret- 
to  land,  and  would  receive  a  friendly  welcome, 
whereupon,  with  the  queerest  of  patched-up 

paddles,    women    and    men    alike    assisted    in 

bringing  the  crazy  hark  to  the  beach.   Their 

hesitation  to  land  was  explained  by  the  fact 
that  no  white  man  had  been  at  the  (  'ape  when 
they  last  saw  it,  and  they  were  not  sure  what 
to  expect. 

The  agent  at  onee  recognized  the  truth  of 
their  story,  for  it  was  well  known  that  ten 
years  previously  several  families  had  left  the 
mainland  for  the  island.  Never  a  word  had 
been  heard  of  them  since,  though  they  had  not 
actually  been  forgotten.  Captain  Murray,  of 
a  Seoteli  whaler,  had  steamed  as  close  as  he 
dared  all  along  the  eastern  shore  of  Mansfield, 
blowing  his  whistle  and  showing  flags  to  attract 
attention  in  case  any  Eskimo  should  happen  to 
be  stranded  there,  but  he  had  not  been  able  to 
inake  out  any  answering  signals.  Yet  as  a 
matter  of  fact  the  little  people  on  the  east  side 

234 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

had  seen  her  pass  in  full  view,  but  in  their  ex- 
citement they  had  forgotten  to  light  a  fire  in 
order  to  signal  back,  and  had  confined  their 
efforts  to  hoisting  all  their  foxskins  stretched 
out  on  a  long  line,  hoping  thereby  to  induce 
the  vessel  to  call  in  for  trade;  but  she  had 
passed  without  seeing  them. 

The  captain's  report  had  confirmed  the 
general  opinion  that  they  had  never  reached 
the  island,  and  the  whole  company  had  long 
ago  been  given  up  for  lost. 

Though  these  poor  folk  had  been  obliged  to 
leave  behind  them  nearly  all  their  bearskins, 
of  which  their  tally  showed  twenty-seven,  and 
also  all  their  walrus  and  narwhal  tusks,  they 
had  quite  a  number  of  good  foxskins,  and  with 
these  they  at  once  requested  permission  to  go 
into  the  store.  They  had  been  nearly  ten  years 
without  tobacco,  to  say  nothing  of  the  count- 
less other  luxuries  of  a  white  man's  store,  and 
tobacco  and  matches,  the  universal  poarboire 
of  a  Hudson's  Bay  Company  store,  were  what 
they  asked  for  first. 

The  trading  was  over,  and  the  men  had  gone 
to  fix  up  for  the  night  a  tent  which  the  agent 

235 


Talcs  of  the  Labrador 

had  kindly  lent  them.  It  was  getting  dark,  and 
my  friend  was  entering  the  doorway  of  his 
house  when  he  heard  the  patter  of  feet  be- 
hind him.  It  was  Mitteakuk,  the  oldest  of  the 
women,  who  had  returned  to  ask  him  what 
seemed  a  most  extraordinary  question. 

'Is  it  not  to-morrow  that  is  the  day  of  no 
trade?  " 

"Yes,  to-morrow  is  the  day  of  rest,"  he 
answered. 

'I  am  glad,"  she  said.  'We  have  kept  count 
ever  since  we  left,  hut  we  were  afraid  we  had 
mistaken  a  day." 

The  following  morning,  as  the  factor  was 
dressing,  he  was  attracted  by  the  sounds  of 
singing  outside.  As  he  stopped  to  listen,  the 
words  of  the  Eskimo  version  of  one  of  our  most 
familiar  livmns  reached  his  ears  —  "Rock  of 
Ages,  Cleft  for  Me." 

Kairtok  piulijauviksak 
Mane  oktortauvingnie 
Ijervigidlarlagit, 
Piulijaunartogavit. 
Jesus  ungagivara, 
Killangmut  tessiormanga. 

There  was  Kommak  with  all  his  little  party 
gathered  round  him  on  the  bare  rocks  outside 

236 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

the  tent  holding  morning  prayers.  An  Episco- 
pal prayer-book  and  hymnal  were  still  among 
this  unusual  man's  most  cherished  possessions. 
He  concluded  the  service  with  an  extempore 
expression  of  sincere  gratitude  to  God  for  their 
safe  return  to  the  land  which  they  looked  upon 
as  home.  My  friend  assures  me  that  never  in 
all  his  life  had  he  been  a  witness  to  a  more  im- 
pressive service. 

There  is  yet  one  even  more  extraordinary 
chapter  to  the  story.  Even  before  the  wander- 
ers, well  fitted  out  for  another  lease  of  life,  left 
the  Cape,  a  party  from  the  eastward  came  in. 
Among  them  was  a  man  who  had  crossed  the 
Straits  from  Lake  Harbor  in  Baffin  Land,  and 
who  was  returning  to  the  district  of  his  birth 
between  Cape  Smith  and  the  Big  River.  He 
had  with  him  his  wife  from  the  north  side  of 
the  Straits,  but  no  family. 

Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction.  This  man 
proved  to  be  none  other  than  our  old  friend 
Bakshauk.  When  he  was  driven  off  on  the  ice 
he  had  built  himself  a  snow  house,  in  which  in 
bad  weather  he  had  slept  for  days  at  a  time 
with  scarcely  anything  to  eat.   He  had  no  fire 

237 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

to  warm  himself  or  to  cook  food.  With  only 
his  bow  and  arrow  and  spear  he  had  killed 
game  enough,  alone  on  the  drift  ice,  to  keep 
life  in  him  for  three  months,  after  which 
period  he  had  escaped  from  the  floe  to  the 
.shore  of  Baffin  Land,  at  a  point  about  one 
hundred  miles  north  of  the  whaling  station  at 

Lake  Harbor.  Traveling  south  along  the  land- 
wash,  he  had  still  continued  to  kill  enough  seals 
and  birds  to  keep  body  and  soul  together, and 
he  had  at  Length  actually  reached  the  post  after 
traveling  a  distance  of  certainly  not  less  than 
a  thousand  miles  from  the  place  where  he 
started,  lie  was  not  one  whit  the  worse  for  an 
experience  which  would  have  killed  any  ordi- 
nary man  of  the  world.  His  main  trouble  had 
keen  hoots,  which  he  had  never  been  able  to 
repair,  for  he  could  never  dry  the  skins  of  the 
animals  which  he  killed,  as  they  froze  instantly, 
and  he  had  no  fire  to  thaw  them  out.  Only  by 
cutting  pieces  out  of  his  other  garments,  and 
patching  the  holes  as  best  he  could,  without 
needle  or  thread,  was  he  able  to  travel  over  the 
ice  without  getting  frost-bitten. 

There  was  onlv  one  difficulty  to  be  settled, 
and  that  was  the  question  of  the  first  wife. 

238 


Kommak  the  Innuk 

Bakshauk  bad  for  several  years  been  learning 
from  the  missionaries  stationed  at  Lake  Har- 
bor that  it  was  unlawful  to  have  more  than 
one  wife.  He  had  never  expected  to  see  his  first 
wife  alive,  and  she  had  long  ago  considered 
him  as  lost.  At  length  a  conference  took  place 
between  all  the  parties  on  perfectly  friendly 
terms,  and  the  matter  was  settled  by  the  first 
wife  and  her  son  remaining  with  Kommak, 
while  the  daughter  and  the  second  wife  went 
with  Bakshauk. 

Novikand  Ananak  reached  the  Kovik  River 
without  more  than  the  usual  adventures  inci- 
dent to  the  wandering  life  of  the  little  people. 
The  same  winds  which  had  foiled  Kommak's 
attempts  favored  them  when  they  left  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  island  to  go  east. 

"But  what  about  Kuanak  and  Kamak- 
suak?"  asked  the  agent. 

"They  could  n't  leave,  having  neither  dogs 
nor  outfit." 

"Are  thev  still  on  the  island,  then?" 

"Indeed,  thev  must  be." 
'Will  they  not  perish  during  the  winter?" 

"I  fear  it  will  be  even  so." 

"Can  nothing  be  done  to  save  them?" 

239 


Tales  of  the  Labrador 

"The  Innuit  can  do  nothing.  Only  an 
oomiavik  of  the  Kablenaks  [white  men]  can 
rescue  I  hem." 

Alas,  no  Bhip  has  yet  been  able  to  go,  and 
their  fate  still  hangs  In  the  balance. 

Wonder  has  frequently  been  expressed  as  to 
how  the  Eskimo  became  a  circumpolar  race. 
Tliis  simple  piece  of  history  Berves  a1  least  to 
indicate  the  way  in  which  it  may  haye  occurred, 
and  thai  it  may  well  have  been  quite  involun- 
tary on  their  part. 


THE    END 


Cbc  fliticraiDc   prctf* 

CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .    A 


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